


Unfolding

by GealachGirl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Catholicism, Crime RIngs, Friends to Lovers, Journalism, Karen becomes a decent journalist, Legal Drama, M/M, Matt and Jess are bros, Medium Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Trust Issues, best damn avocadoes, bringing character development home to roost, exploring the senses, learning new things, libel law, lots of talking, moving forward, press freedom, real Daredeviling, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: This time Matt and Foggy actually move forward, despite everything, from lawsuits to sinister rumors, trying to pull them back.That's the goal anyway, and they're gonna have to fight for it.





	1. Epilogue/Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is the product of [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aW8ZN43UMA), from which I took the title, and a sleep-deprived burst of inspiration at 2 a.m. this February. 
> 
> This fic is also an excuse to preach about press freedom and to celebrate my still-new journalism degree. Thanks to the people on the Daredevil & Defenders discord who said they want to see realistic law in fics and inspired me to expand this beyond a one-shot.

It had all been leading up to this. All of the talking, the _communicating_, the promises. It had all been leading to this moment in the office.

~~~~

The more time passed, the easier it got to be around each other, and Matt still couldn’t believe his luck. Any day, he could hear Karen’s bright laugh and the soft swish of her hair against her shoulders, or catch the light, faintly floral scent of her hand lotion.

He could hear Foggy’s strong, steady heartbeat again. Working out of his family’s shop wasn’t always easy on him — Matt heard the nagging and the lighthearted digs about Foggy finally doing the right thing and working at the shop — but he was happy. Happier than Matt had heard him in too long. It was something he hadn’t realized he’d taken for granted.

Everything was.

Most importantly, he was there. There when Matt wanted to test ideas for arguments, and there when Matt needed to skip out on drinks to track drug deals, and there when Matt could use ice or bandages and some company.

There were still some awkward silences, and it wasn’t like Foggy had decided Daredevil was a model of healthy behavior or a good first option. But he’d come around in all of the important ways, and Matt never felt like he had to hide or sneak around or bite his tongue anymore.

And that openness had re-opened something else for him, too. Something that went back to law school and their names on a napkin.

Matt wasn’t sure when there would be a right time for it, though.

When they started working out of the back room of the shop, Foggy had felt obligated to tell his family members that Matt’s hearing was better than they could imagine, playing it off as one sense making up for the other to a crazy degree.

He knew Matt loved them, that he wouldn’t spy on them. And he knew he’d probably already figured out how to tune them out. He’d spent enough time around them.

But it wouldn’t be right to let them think they had privacy when it came to important stuff. Foggy wasn’t perfect, but he tried to do right, and he knew Matt probably agreed with him.

So, his mom waited until Matt had left before she confronted him. He’d never explained Matt’s sudden absence from his life, just like he hadn’t explained his reappearance, but his mom had known it was something big.

She broke out the first name when she asked if he was okay with this, if he was happy. If he knew what he was doing.

And God, she loved Matt like a son, but she was perceptive. She could read a room and fill in the silences, and she was protective down to her core.

But yes, he was sure. He’d gotten by after Nelson & Murdock closed. He even felt good about it a lot of the time, especially at the beginning when the wound had been raw and he couldn’t think about his best friend without feeling a flare of anger.

But that had faded over time, and it went out completely when Matt didn’t walk through the doorway in the station.

Then Matt had come back from the dead, and Foggy had decided he didn’t want to be anywhere other than by his side. The worry and heartbreak were worth it to see Matt’s smile, to hear his laugh, and to be around him again, flirting and joking and _them_, Matt and Foggy.

So yeah, he was okay. He was happy. They were moving back toward each other, and it was good.

One of the biggest, and best, differences was that they didn’t fight anymore.

Matt wondered a lot about why. Neither of them had liked it. As hard as Foggy’s heart had beat when they fought or he lectured, Matt could tell — under the adrenaline and heat — that the shake in Foggy’s voice wasn’t about how angry he was.

Every time he thought about his own words from back then a pit opened inside him again.

But it wasn’t nearly as big as the original that had dug into his chest when the chaos of Elektra and the Hand had settled, and he’d ventured to Josie’s only to find the longstanding tab closed. 

No more secrets helped. Resolving, out loud, to move forward helped. An agreement to start over at a new ground level helped.

Having his friends sigh when they saw the dark circles under his eyes or him favoring part of his body didn’t feel better, but Karen leaving to grab ice and Foggy leaving to grab coffee, and then having the space to share whatever he wanted to did.

Not hearing judgment or condemnation or naked, bare worry in their voices helped.

Every once in a while, Matt worried the other two would leave again, convinced himself that he would do something to drive them back out of his life. He didn’t think that voice in his head would ever go away, either, but it was easier to silence it for a while now.

And it seemed like acknowledging the past and resolving to move beyond the cracked parts of their relationship was the key.

Though there was another element to this moving forward beyond not fighting, and Matt couldn’t quite explain it.

Sometimes Matt would say something and Foggy would go quiet and warm, but not in a tense, sudden way. It was happy somehow. And he could never anticipate what might bring it up.

It had happened when Matt referenced an old inside joke or when he connected dots in a case they were building, or even when he told Foggy about stopping a guy who’d been following a girl home from the bus stop.

From what Matt could tell, Foggy was looking at him in those moments, but his heartbeat didn’t change, his body language didn’t change, his breathing only subtly changed pitch. He couldn’t be sure, there was no way to confirm it, but he thought Foggy was smiling at him then. Softly.

Just in case, Matt was always sure to smile in his direction when he caught it.

A lot had changed in the time Foggy had been separated from Matt. He’d needed to.

After years spent having Matt wrapped up in his time and emotions, the absence of him had left a gap in Foggy’s mental landscape. And there had been a lot of absence to fuel the gap.

No matter how much it had hurt, Foggy had learned how to ignore it and push past it, especially when he grudgingly accepted Matt wasn’t going to make a reappearance.

It was how he’d handled Fisk’s release, the FBI, the pressure from his family and a job he mostly hated.

They didn’t talk about it. Foggy didn’t want to make Matt feel like it was something to apologize for, and he wasn’t sure how to explain the growing he’d had to do.

He knew Matt had noticed, though. Sometimes they talked about problem cases, or Matt opened up a little about his time back at the orphanage, and Matt titled his head in his curious way when Foggy didn’t react the way he expected him to.

And there was a different rhythm to the way they worked together now. Foggy had actually managed to catch Matt off guard once as he dug into the research for a case and found an argument that a former Foggy would have hesitated to exploit.

Matt seemed most affected in court though, when he listened to Foggy questioning their witnesses or cross-examining the prosecution’s.

Marci had told him he’d gotten sharper, more relentless or persistent when he was pursuing a case and she’d said he was incredibly sexy when he cut through bullshit.

Foggy had caught Matt’s furrowed eyebrows a few times, but he’d also caught his lips quirk upward when Foggy settled next to him again, and he liked to think Matt looked proud.

Marci, on the other hand...

For how sincere he’d been about the proposal, she’d been right to refuse. Now that life had cooled down, they were going the direction they always went. Foggy thought they’d both known it was coming.

When all the dust had settled and Foggy had revealed his plans to jump the corporate ship again, Marci’s mouth had twisted into a flat line and she’d looked disappointed. That was when Foggy had realized their days were numbered.

Not long after, they got around to talking about how they would go on, and soon Foggy was back in his own apartment, re-filling his own drawers and closet space and refrigerator.

And there was no way he could tell Matt, though he’d probably figured out Foggy had moved out of Marci’s. He would undoubtedly blame himself — for all of it — and Foggy couldn’t have that when they were learning how to be together again. Things were balanced so carefully and Foggy didn’t want to risk any of it, even if it meant holding something back.

He had no way of knowing things would stay good between them, but he was all in until they didn’t.

Sometimes, Matt was struck suddenly by the grief. In the moments he least expected it, it bubbled up to the surface and threatened to overwhelm him. There was so much more of it now.

He didn’t have much to do as Daredevil at the moment. Some cleanup of Fisk’s web of contacts, but the streets were otherwise quiet. Instead, his patrols gave him time to think.

Matt was still convinced Elektra had made it out of Midland Circle, so his mourning for her was twisted around joy that she was alive somewhere, even if it wasn’t with him.

He could admit it was probably for the best. If he’d learned anything, it was that he truly loved his life. It didn’t need to be bigger or faster, as long as he could be himself without hiding.

His grief for Father Lantom was more complicated.

Occasionally, on days when he could use guidance, his patrols sent him around to the cemetery, filled with so many people Matt had known. He wandered among them, brushing his fingers over the tops of the headstones he recognized until he got to the ones he needed to.

He divided his time between Dad and Father, and he let himself ache in the quiet, whispering his problems or updates on his life to them even if he wouldn’t get advice.

Sometimes he ended those visits with a trip to St. Agnes.

Usually, Foggy and Karen took one look at him the next morning and someone offered to get expensive coffee from his favorite shop.

He kept the intricacies of it to himself, the confusing mix of father figures and a girl who’d vanished. Explaining it wouldn’t make anything better, and he didn’t even know where to start.

For all that had gone wrong, they were back together and it felt even stronger than before. Foggy wasn’t leaving for anything, and he had Matt’s word that he wouldn’t either. More important than his word though, was the expression on his face when he didn’t think anyone was looking.

Foggy had been introduced to it in college when he’d invited Matt to come home with him for fall break, and then again for Thanksgiving and winter break. It was soft and unsure, but touched and full of hope and wonder at being asked, like he didn’t expect repeat invitations.

It had popped out when Foggy had first suggested Nelson & Murdock, when he’d agreed to leave an established firm to start it, when he’d gone to Matt and Fogwell’s with an olive branch.

When he’d given Matt the suit in the police station.

When he’d introduced them to Nadeem as Nelson and Murdock.

The expression was always accompanied by a firmer one that basically said “I’m not going to fuck this up.”

They all mattered to each other, and whether that had just been obscured or faded before, it was back to the forefront.

For the first time since that first fissure, Foggy felt like he knew his best friend again, and like they could maybe be themselves again.

~~~~

It had all been leading up to this moment.

Matt couldn’t see it, but he could sense the way Foggy had leaned back in his chair to listen to what Matt had to say. His heart was beating steady, if a little faster, and Matt had no way of knowing why.

He still had ragged, broken edges and he still wasn’t sure he could make any of this last. He tried to keep what Nadeem said in mind, though, about how firmly his friends had stood for him when they’d really had no reason. He tried to remember what Karen had told him about the faith Foggy had in him. He clung to the memory of Foggy’s joy when Matt showed up again.

And maybe everything was different now, but Matt wanted it back. They’d both grown when they were apart, and Matt wanted to believe they could grow together again.

He sensed Foggy’s warmth, the way he’d turned toward Matt when he’d appeared in the doorway. Silence was stretching out from Foggy’s upbeat, “What’s up buddy?” but it wasn’t heavy.

They could do it.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to get dinner tonight. Just the two of us.”

Matt could feel the warmth and radiance of Foggy’s responding smile in his bones, and a small smile of his own slipped onto his face.

It grew when the warmth bled into Foggy’s voice and he said, “That sounds perfect, Matty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been the one-shot.


	2. Chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the dust has settled, what does moving forward look like?

“Wait, wait, wait,” Karen said laughing. She waved her hand in front of her face and leaned over the table on her elbows. “You’re saying you can _smell_ the difference between the people at the bar?”

“And from their voices, but those are harder to make out from here,” Matt said, rolling his glass of whiskey in his hand. “But yes, it’s Friday night and people are going out.”

He could smell perfume, aftershave and cologne. But also makeup products, new clothes, more expensive hair products. And the normal smells like sweat and alcohol. Matt described it all to Karen.

Honestly, he had to wonder if there was something like graduation or finals going on somewhere in the city. Most of the people in the bar were young, wearing some kind of scent and making a lot of noise. Filtering it out was overwhelming, but he liked it. The buzz of crowds always gave him a sense of space that he appreciated.

“Can you pick Foggy out of it?” He heard her hair brush against her skin and swing over her shoulder as she turned to look for Foggy.

“Of course.” Matt knew that Foggy was hovering off to the side of the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention to shift his way, and he knew that Foggy was getting more and more frustrated. “Watch, he’s going to shove his way to the front soon.”

“Oh that seems like a bad idea,” Karen said. She drew out her words like she didn’t believe it. And she had a point. The guys blocking Foggy from the bartender were big and solid. Their hearts beat steady, and most of the weight they carried was the muscle. Matt could hear how it all settled and shifted.

“Just wait for it,” Matt said. They were all so wrapped up in each other that Matt sometimes forgot that he knew Foggy better than Karen did and this was a situation he’d witnessed before.

Finally, Foggy pushed roughly between the guys without trying to make it subtle. Then he flat-out ignored their protests in favor of placing the order for the table. When that didn’t fly with them—but only after the drinks were being poured—Foggy turned and did acknowledge them. Karen held her breath and Matt let his smirk out.

“Shit, I’m sorry, you didn’t seem like you were going to move or listen to me any time soon,” Foggy said brightly, shrinking back against the bar to make himself seem smaller. “But as it is, I’m just trying to get drinks for my friends and, as you may notice, I’m really the only one who can do it.”

He finished off with a gesture toward their table and Matt made sure to make his blindness obvious. Beside him, Karen swayed and grabbed onto the edge of the table, playing up how drunk she was.

“So, I’m sorry to disturb you, but look, you’re big strong guys, there’s no way I matter that much to you. And I can’t imagine you actually want to start a fight with someone like me because that couldn’t be satisfying for you. At least not enough to make the assault charges worth it.” He reached behind him for the tray of drinks. “And now I’ll just leave you alone and you won’t have to worry about me again. Great talk.”

Matt smiled brightly at Foggy when he returned. He was nervous, sweating a little, and his heartbeat was wild. But he sat down with a relieved laugh and pushed the drinks toward them.

“The things I do for you two,” he sighed, slumping into the table. But he wasn’t upset.

“That was impressive. I’ve seen you in the courtroom and I somehow didn’t think you’d be able to get yourself out of that one,” Karen said, reaching for her cocktail.

“It’s more effective when Matt’s with me at the bar,” Foggy said. Karen made a curious noise and Foggy went on to explain how people were less likely to hit or shove you when your blind best friend was right beside you, and now he knew that if Matt was close there was a chance he could throw a punch or two and play it off as luck.

Matt didn’t join in because he was too busy enjoying the warm feeling in his chest that was only a little related to the Jameson. Besides, Foggy clearly had the tales from their early years handled.

The activity of the bar spun around him and his friends were on either side of him, and he could believe that he was allowed to have this, and that he could keep it this time.

Talking about his senses in real-time and describing the things he could perceive when the others asked seemed to be a step in the right direction. Foggy especially seemed to appreciate it.

He asked the most questions and brought them up the most. He’d seemed to come around about the senses, and Matt hadn’t realized he might still be trying to understand.

But Foggy did have more history between them to right in his head.

It made Matt feel guilty every time, but he appreciated Foggy being open to learning more, even if he seemed to have a different motive from Karen. Matt was just glad to have the chance to put them back on the footing they’d had before everything came out.

Foggy finished his story about a time where they avoided starting a bar fight in college, and he leaned over to bump Matt with his shoulder.

“Of course it helps that this one was probably able to tell who was the biggest threat. That’s probably why he took the lead. At the time I had no idea what he thought he was doing, and I thought he maybe just had zero self-preservation.” Foggy was still laughing. It was still a light-hearted conversation.

“Well there was some of that, too,” Matt pointed out, and that only got him a bigger laugh.

Despite the pay cut, there was a lot of benefit to being self-employed again. Sure, Foggy had to adjust his lifestyle, his diet, and, eventually, his clothing preferences, but he could be excited about going to work, work that he cared about, working for people he cared about.

Some of his clients had followed him, mostly the small ones based out of New York City. His campaign drew some attention to the firm, too.

Nelson & Murdock had always been flexible about the type of law they practiced and Nelson, Murdock & Page was no different. These clients guaranteed a paycheck, too, while they went back to helping out the neighborhood. Only usually pro bono.

The other benefit was working with Karen and Matt again. Especially Matt.

Foggy had always known that they would make great partners. They’d always played off of each other’s strengths, and they were so often on the same wavelength when it came to crafting arguments. To have him back, dissecting and interpreting law by his side, felt like exactly where they belonged.

He’d meant it when they’d worked on Nadeem’s case together. About all of it feeling right.

Sometimes, when he was able to truly get caught up in the act of running a law firm, Foggy looked up and he was able to imagine that nothing had ever changed. No superpowers, no vigilante action, no resentment or leftover grief from when he’d thought his best friend was dead.

All he saw was Matt being a lawyer.

The fantasy never lasted long. But when he thought about it for more than a minute, Foggy realized he preferred knowing those things Matt had kept secret. Because they were more of the whole picture that made up his best friend.

“Your mother? Seriously?”

Of course, there were some things that made him up that were more complicated than any of them deserved.

Matt nodded, but kept his face down and he didn’t say anything. He fiddled with the strap of his cane as they walked down the street and kept his face angled in that way that kept Foggy from being able to read it, even if it wasn’t dark out.

The evening was nice, cool and quiet, and Matt had offered that they walk to their apartments together. He was doing that more now.

They often grabbed dinner or drinks or coffee one-on-one, but this was new and different. Matt had never taken this time out for Foggy before, and he wondered if it meant something or if it was just the new Matt.

Foggy had a hard time thinking it wasn’t special.

“Okay, so I hope you know that’s the most Matt Murdock thing I can imagine,” Foggy continued, because it was clear that Matt wasn’t going to tell him more without prompting. “Please tell me you realize that.”

Matt had the audacity to turn shocked eyebrows toward him and Foggy rolled his eyes at the disbelieving, “What?”

“Come on, dude. Your life is uniquely tragic and bizarre. Murdered father, being blinded, getting super powers, being trained by a blind ninja, almost recruited to become a blind ninja, grew up to fight literal ninjas and other criminals. And now, one of the nuns that raised you in the orphanage turns out to be your mom. That’s “Matt Murdock Brand Drama” if I’ve ever heard it.”

Matt looked dumbfounded for a moment before he let out a sharp bark of laughter that dissolved into full-throated laughing, so hard that he stopped walking.

“Well when you put it like that,” he said when he got enough breath back.

Foggy grinned watching him, and carefully read his face and the set of his shoulders, the little bit of edge. “How are you doing with that knowledge?” he asked lightly, though he knew Matt would be able to hear the layers of what he was asking.

Matt straightened and tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. They started walking again and Foggy waited.

“We’re getting to know each other,” he said eventually. “I’m not sure what to think of it, but I’m trying to figure it out.”

“Good or bad so far?” Foggy didn’t want to pry, but he did want to understand. And even if he knew he couldn’t rush their “coming back together,” he couldn’t help himself sometimes.

Matt smiled a little. “It’s weird, but mostly good.”

“Awesome. I’m happy for you, buddy. Even if it’s weird right now.” It took prompting, but Foggy still felt better about the fact that Matt was willing to talk about it at all.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“I’ve heard you with your family and it seems a little tense sometimes…” Matt said, but halting like he was walking out onto a ledge he couldn’t quite perceive. He was gripping the handle on his cane again and his face was set straight ahead.

Foggy honestly hadn’t thought Matt would have paid any attention to that. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked around at the streetlights.

“Oh, well, yeah. Sometimes being all cooped up together in the same space…people get on each other’s nerves. It’s not really serious, just the same old about how I should take over the shop. Everything’s fine though, we’ve still got our office space.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. And he didn’t think it was enough to register on Matt’s radar. Foggy didn’t think he had to get into the whole story about how close he’d come to quitting law when Matt was gone. He didn’t have to mention that he’d almost lost it when he found out about Fisk getting out. He didn’t have to talk about how much his family apparently resented him for leaving the store — though that was maybe mostly the stress from the loan.

“I think it’ll get better now that we don’t have to worry about Fisk too,” Foggy said. His voice was steady and he could only hope his heartbeat was, too.

He hated it, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that telling Matt about all of that would only set them back. By now it was in the past and they wouldn’t have to worry about Fisk’s involvement in the loan anymore.

Matt, who’d been frowning a little, brightened and he directed that light straight at Foggy. Still no indication that he caught Foggy’s lies by omission. “That’s nice. I know it stresses you out.”

“And we could all do with less of that,” Foggy said.

He thought of how nice it was to be with Matt again, and that even if he came into the office beat up most mornings, he’d rather have that over the months he thought his best friend was dead. That was more stressful than Daredevil, especially since Daredevil wasn’t up against crime bosses or ninjas anymore.

Matt ducked his head. “We can always find somewhere else for the firm, you know. Your family’s doing us a favor putting us up like that, but we can look for other space if it’s a burden.”

Foggy wasn’t sure what to say for a few seconds. He was equal parts touched that Matt thought about that and dumbfounded that he thought a Nelson could ever find him a burden.

“Hey, it’s not just you they’re putting up with. And they know how much they owe me. They wouldn’t dare kick us out,” Foggy said, trying to put a more lighthearted spin on it. The look on Matt’s face told him he really meant the offer about looking for other empty office spaces. And God forbid they go back to Fogwell’s.

The smile that cracked open on Matt’s face told him that he’d succeed, and Foggy couldn’t help himself from slinging an arm over Matt’s shoulder and pulling him closer. A light laugh spilled out of Matt’s mouth as he bumped against Foggy’s side and Foggy beamed.

Matt had never expected repairing his life would be so smooth. Especially not after he fucked it up not once, but twice and hadn’t thought he’d ever speak to his friends again.

But there was so much talking. And while it wasn’t easy, Matt didn’t feel the immediate tug to withhold things anymore. If only Stick could see him now, standing upright among the ruins of his lectures on secrecy.

While Karen appreciated it, Matt could tell that the openness meant something else to Foggy. He thought it was probably related to how eager he was to learn.

And Foggy was willing to talk to him, too. It maybe wasn’t about everything, but Matt was just so relieved not to hear is breath catch before he spoke that he didn’t care. He also figured that Foggy deserved to have some private things.

His run of good fortune was lasting longer, too. Patrols were light and mostly injury-free, the attention Foggy had garnered with his political run led to more clients for the firm, and Matt was trying to be open, even about the stuff he hated. The situation with the Hand, what happened with Elektra, Dex, Nadeem, Midland Circle.

“You still don’t know how you got out from under the rubble?” Karen sounded shocked, not suspicious, and even though her voice was shaky, she was invested in the answer. Beside her, Foggy didn’t say anything, but Matt heard him hold his breath and lean in closer over the conference table.

Matt pushed away the memory of shrieking steel, the deafening roar of crumbling stonework, the mind-wiping pain. He tried not to think about the flashes of numbness or the discomfort, of pulling himself across the ground with skin burned, torn and sensitive. Bones cracked and splintering as they shifted against each other.

He shook his head sharply and mustered a flash of a smile. “All I really know is the sewers were involved. The man who pulled over to investigate is the one who helped me get in touch with the church. Then they took it over, and I was in the infirmary at the orphanage until I could stay awake.”

“Jesus.” Foggy shuddered, but breathed out a laugh as he pushed himself back into his chair. “Thank God some brave soul pulled over.” 

Matt shrugged with one shoulder and tipped his head down. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew he owed them all the answers he could offer. This was the least he could do.

“Everyone at the church tried to make sure I did that,” he replied in a thicker voice. He clenched his hands into fists on the table in an effort to not grimace, still trying to forget being buried under the remains of Midland Circle.

“And you were just there until you heard about Fisk?” Karen’s voice was gentler now.

Matt lifted his head and flashed a more convincing smile. “Pretty much. I decided I’d had enough rest when I learned that he’d gotten out.”

Karen’s heartbeat shifted and he wondered if she or Foggy would ask about the heiress and her father. The single re-appearance of Daredevil before Fisk. He tried to brace himself for the possibility, and to figure out what he could say.

As committed as he was to being open, Matt refused to talk about losing his hearing. About barely being able to walk. About the tire iron and the men he’d stopped before they could finish the kidnapping.

Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to talk about it, and he hoped they wouldn’t hate him for it if they ever found out.

He tried not to hate himself. Tried to tell himself he wouldn’t fuck it all up again if he never told them, or if it ever came out.

“Well now it’s all over and the band’s back together,” Foggy said brightly. It was his best “rally-the-troops” voice, totally fake and empty, and Matt didn’t think enhanced senses were necessary to hear it.

His heart was beating faster. Anxiety. Mild panic. And there was an edge of desperation to his voice. His shoulders and jaw were tight.

Matt frowned in his direction.

But then the thudding sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention, and it must have shown because Foggy and Karen went quiet and leaned back in their chairs.

Back to work.

It wasn’t until later, over Chinese takeout at the conference table, that they got the chance to talk again. Karen had left a few hours earlier to have dinner with friends from the Bulletin, and Matt was braced for more difficult conversations.

“How do you even handle living in New York City?” Foggy asked over a carton of fried rice. “Everything’s loud and I can’t imagine it smells better to an enhanced nose.”

“Oh,” Matt sat up in his chair, and was instantly more interested in talking. “The simple answer is that I ignore most of it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second, but it was a quiet that Matt recognized. It wasn’t heavy, and Matt was already grinning as he scooped up a bite of Lo Mein with his chopsticks.

The quiet was Foggy squinting at him and trying to decode what he’d said. Matt had heard it from him since law school, when he proposed a novel argument to a practice case they were putting together or when he said he didn’t really have plans for Thanksgiving break. It usually followed every single blind joke Matt made.

“Okay, I give up. Explain. Give me the more complicated answer.”

“So you know how you can tune out music if you concentrate enough on your work?” Foggy nodded. “It’s like that, but with everything. My senses are really all about focus. I have to adjust to pick up the small stuff and to let the bigger stuff in.”

Foggy hummed, and he actually sounded fascinated. “Example?”

Matt thought about it for a second, and he felt a light, fizzy emotion in his chest. This was nice, this was _fun_.

“I can crack a safe, but I have to listen closely and it helps if it’s quiet.” Foggy made an impressed noise. “But I don’t really hear the traffic outside unless I think about it. Still, there are some baseline sounds that I always pick up. It’s actually like what I remember from having normal senses, there’s just a lot more that I _can_ sense, so there’s a lot more that I have to ignore.”

“And if you tried paying attention to everything, it would paralyze you.”

Matt nodded eagerly. “Sometimes the mental effort it takes to keep those filters up gets overwhelming, too. It’s hard work.”

“So, they’re harder to maintain when you’re tired.”

“Or stressed.”

“And that’s why you got migraines over big tests or projects during law school.”

Matt beamed. Foggy understood. The one thing he’d always hoped for when he’d thought about telling Foggy everything. Matt had been happy with the grudging acceptance he’d gotten after everything came out, but, if he was honest, he’d been seeking this.

“Not always, but yes. Finals during the first year almost killed me.” He’d been exhausted from studying and stressed on top of that, and then he’d been knocked down by the barrage of information from all over campus.

Eventually he’d stopped even processing it, and he was still grateful that he’d been able to keep it together enough not to let all of New York City in.

“Does it still happen? You said it takes hard work and that can give out, too.”

“Not as often as it used to. I’ve gotten better at filtering things and using less effort. But yeah, sometimes I have days when I just can’t do it.”

Foggy went quiet in a contemplative way then and Matt was eager to know what he was contemplating. Somehow, in the mess of everything, Matt had forgotten what Foggy’s friendship felt like. The support, the fact that Foggy cared about him the way no one had since his dad.

For the longest time, Foggy had been there for him like no one else, and Matt couldn’t believe he’d lost sight of that. He thought part of how much he wanted to fix things went back to a need to pay Foggy back for all the years of stress and the lying that had come before.

He wanted to deserve the friendship Foggy gave so easily, and he wanted to show Foggy it wasn’t one-sided. That Matt loved him, too, even if it was different from the way Foggy loved him.

“You know, I’m sure you’ve got it covered but the next time you can’t deal with all of your senses, I’m willing to help. Like, I’m here for you, whatever you might need from me.”

His heart was beating steady and strong, and Matt had to breathe through his tighter throat.

He fought the reflex to downplay the problem and assure Foggy he could handle it on his own. He pushed away the intrusive thoughts that told him accepting the help would make him a burden Foggy would only grow to resent. Instead, he pulled an unsteady smile out and uttered a choked, “Thank you, Foggy. I’ll keep that in mind. I mean it.”

Foggy’s breath stuttered, and his body got warmer. Matt opened his mouth to fix whatever impression he’d given him, but Foggy cut him off.

“Of course, buddy,” his voice was a little loaded, too, and they badly needed to get themselves under control. “Don’t worry about it.”

Matt nodded and then Foggy took a lighter breath. “So, tell me what you can hear across the street and then I’m going to throw things at you and see if your reflexes are actually all that.”

As nice as everything was, and it was so much better than anything that had happened since the first time they took Fisk down, there were still some big holes to patch up.

Usually Foggy was content to let those topics hover in the background and come up on their own, but some things couldn’t work that way. If he was being realistic, he’d known that, but sometimes Foggy enjoyed living in a state of light denial. It made some things easier.

Like the fact that he was sitting on Matt’s couch, bouncing his legs anxiously and waiting for his best friend to get back. Matt had told him to eat without him — with one leg out of the window, tying that damn mask over his face — but the pizza sat forgotten on the coffee table.

It had felt almost like old times. Talking, joking, discussing their plans for the future what with all the attention Nelson, Murdock & Page was getting. And for a nice change of pace, Matt had participated, even in the hypothetical-future-planning.

Then, in the middle of a frankly hilarious story Foggy had about watching people moving into an upper-floor apartment, Matt had stilled and tipped his face down and to the side. A second later, he’d bolted to his feet and stalked to the closet that housed the new suit, apparently before he’d even thought about it.

(“Um, Matt?” Foggy felt stupid for asking because it was clear what was happening. But, as pathetic as it was, he couldn’t stop wanting Matt to acknowledge him and what they were doing.)

And now Foggy was waiting for Daredevil to come back from the kidnapping he’d gone out to stop.

The creak of the rooftop access door told him the wait was over, and the heavy thud of Matt’s boots told him his best friend’s normal grace had been compromised. Which told him there were injuries.

And then Daredevil came into view and Foggy wondered if his heart had actually stopped or if it just felt like it.

Matt tipped his head up, so he supposed his body had done something. His mouth quirked and he lifted his hand in a weak wave.

None of that did anything to offset the sight of blood running down his left arm, conspicuously pressed tight to his side. Or the blood staining his mouth and teeth.

“What the actual goddamn fuck Matt?” Foggy demanded. He was surprised to find that he was on his feet and several steps closer to Matt because he had no memory of moving.

Matt had the audacity to raise his eyebrows at the language and Foggy glared at him, hopefully hard enough he could feel it.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“There’s absolutely no way for you to know that. What the fuck?”

Matt shrugged and Foggy definitely noticed how hard he tried not to wince when he jostled his arm.

“I’m fine, honestly. It’s just a knife wound and it didn’t hit anything major,” Matt replied, slipping the mask up so it rested against the top of his head. Foggy was at least happy to see that he didn’t look injured anywhere else, aside from a scrape on his temple by his hairline. 

“No, no, no, no, no please Matthew, please tell me you didn’t just tell me that a _knife_ wound isn’t something to be concerned about. Are you aware of how much you’re bleeding? Is that something you can feel?”

Truthfully, Foggy had seen Matt in worse shape before. The night he unmasked him came immediately — and unpleasantly — to mind. And he knew Matt wouldn’t die from a single knife wound. That didn’t mean he supported the idea of brushing it off. This also looked worse than anything he’d dealt with in a while.

Matt sighed and sounded more put upon than he deserved. His voice was forced patience when he asked, “Do you want to take care of it so you can see for yourself?”

Foggy’s initial reaction was to recoil, but then he thought about it and the fact that he’d taken first aid classes specifically to help or be useful if—when—Daredevil bit off more than he could chew. Which happened all the time.

“Okay. Get over here, Murdock.”

Matt looked surprised for a moment, but he pulled the mask all the way off and followed Foggy back to the couch. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” he said.

Foggy nodded and went after it. When he came back, Matt was shirtless, and the blood kept flowing down his arm from a place on his upper arm, near his shoulder. Foggy couldn’t tell how big the wound was, but he swore softly and Matt picked his head up from where it had been resting against the back of the couch.

“It shouldn’t need stitches. It’s not long or deep enough for that, and it’s mostly done bleeding.” Matt’s voice was softer now, less cocky and sure of itself. But he did sound like he knew what he was talking about, and Foggy decided to trust him. Partly because he also recognized the droop in Matt’s shoulders.

“Sounds good. I’ll just clean it up and figure out how to bandage it, okay?” Foggy settled beside him on the couch and opened the well-used kit.

Matt nodded. “And then you’ll see that it really is fine.” There was a faint smile on his face, and Foggy didn’t say anything. If Matt wanted to hold onto that, Foggy was going to let him for now.

“What happened out there?” he asked as he wiped away the blood trailing down to Matt’s wrist. It seemed to be slowing.

Matt paused for a long moment and Foggy tried to tamp down on his disappointment. Then Matt grimaced and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think you actually want to know about that.”

“And yet I asked, didn’t I? Heads up, I’m going for the stab wound you’ve got.” Now that the dried, leaking blood was out of the way, Foggy saw the clean slash in Matt’s skin, that had indeed stopped bleeding so heavily. He was right, it wasn’t very deep or wide. Basic first aid would probably be fine.

Matt only gritted his teeth when the antiseptic hit the wound, and he looked to be weighing his words.

“It wasn’t really out of the ordinary,” he said carefully. “There were just more people to deal with than I expected. I think the abduction site must have been close to their headquarters because people kept pouring out. I was busy getting her out of the way and didn’t miss the knife in time. For the record, it’s not a stab wound either. More of a swipe.”

Foggy hadn’t really expected a play-by-play summary of the outing, but he could tell there were a few pieces missing from the story, probably for his supposed benefit. “Did you take them down? And get them in custody?”

The smile that flashed across Matt’s face was real, energized and a little wild. Not just for Foggy. It was enough of an answer by itself, but details were always nice.

“I made sure to hit the leaders and I called Brett. The people left behind won’t be able to start the business up again. Most of them will in the hospital for too long to keep it from starting up again.”

Foggy shuddered. He couldn’t help himself. And Matt’s expression fell, into a strange mixture of defiant and mournful. The defiance won.

“Do you have a problem with that?” His voice had lowered into a dangerous tone. “They were bad people, Foggy. They were doing terrible things.”

But Foggy wasn’t going to let him frame it that way. “Do I have a problem with you beating the shit out of the criminal underbelly and having them stab you back? Yes, yes I do.”

“It’s what I have to do, Foggy.”

“I get that! Matt, I really, really do get that. But holy shit, does that immediately mean you have to hospitalize them indefinitely?”

Matt looked outraged and he popped up so he was sitting again.

“This group is the sex trafficking ring I’ve been looking for leads on. The girl they were trying to take was fifteen. Their other victims have been anywhere from twelve to nineteen. You think I should let people like that get off with a slap on the wrist? Arrests that might not stick?” His voice was fast and feverish.

Foggy let out a slow breath to process that horrific information.

He’d mostly come around on Daredevil. He recognized that Daredevil was in a unique position to stop bad things from happening because he heard them before anyone else. And he appreciated that Daredevil represented the ethical duty to not just sit back when he could help.

Foggy just wished it didn’t have to be his best friend all the time.

He worried about the morality of the violence, but that was mostly a matter for Matt to take up with God. Foggy also worried about the unregulated brutality, and the blurred lines over when and how to use Daredevil.

“Of course not. But couldn’t you have rounded up some of the people involved and let it lead back to their larger organization? If it’s big and they’re operating out of a single space, there’s evidence for the police to follow.”

“And let them take more girls between the report and the police finally making it to the doorstep? And then getting a warrant or a task force?” He sounded tired again. “You know I let the system take over as soon as its able. Most of the time, I’m just able to get there faster and do more. The whole point of Daredevil is to fill in the cracks in the system.”

“I can appreciate that,” Foggy said, setting the wad of bandages in his lap. “And shit, I’ve seen up close how the system can be infiltrated and warped on the big scale, and even just be insufficient on the small. I get what you’re saying. Daredevil does undeniable good; he’s protected the city and my friends and he’s saved my life.” Matt’s face softened a little. “I’m not opposed to _him_, I just don’t think he should always be the first option.”

“What do you suggest? Something like the Accords?”

“God, no. Maybe just give the system a chance to work?”

“Call in the violent assault I can hear instead of stopping it?”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Obviously not all the time. When it seems like something they can handle. It doesn’t have to be a strict hierarchy either.” Then he softened. “I just hate that you feel you have to shoulder this burden yourself, and that you get injured like this over it. And if we’re being really honest here, it scares me. You’re my best friend and I want you to be safe.”

Foggy wondered if his voice was a little shaky, or if that was just the way he felt.

They’d had this conversation before, of course, and Foggy knew that Matt would tell him this is what he was supposed to do. It was his God-given responsibility. But he still thought he and Matt could come up with a checklist for when Daredevil needed to be involved in something. Surely not every crime that happened in the city was worth Matt’s life.

And once upon a time Matt had suggested finding a better work-life balance.

But Matt just looked pensive, and he still hadn’t jumped in to talk about his duty to the city.

“Maybe you’re right.” His face was directed toward his lap and the floor. “It’s the work-life balance, right?” He sighed and leaned back. “I just want to stop people from being hurt, directly or indirectly, and I’m uniquely positioned to do it.”

Then he turned his big brown eyes toward Foggy, and he melted the way everyone did for Matt Murdock’s Earnest Face.

“I’m going to work on it, though, Foggy. I promise. I’m going to figure out how to balance all of this.”

Foggy paused while unwrapping the bandages and looked closer at the crease between Matt’s eyebrows and the new tension in his jaw. He set the supplies in his lap.

“I believe you. And I trust you. And I care about you,” Foggy eventually replied. “And you do so much good, Matty. In court and on the streets. You are stopping people from being hurt.”

Foggy just wished he cared as much about how much _he_ was getting hurt.

Matt closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of the couch again. His throat moved as he swallowed, but he didn’t say anything

“Alright then buddy, let’s get you fixed up. Last step.”

Foggy peeled apart a few butterfly bandages, applied them and pressed a dressing over them. Matt might have been humoring him when Foggy then wrapped a few layers of gauzy bandage around that because he didn’t say anything until Foggy pulled away.

“Thank you Foggy. For everything.” He tipped his head up in his direction, his expression open and sincere.

Foggy had a sneaking suspicion he was being thanked for stupid reasons like caring about Matt and for supporting him. But on the tail end of the conversation they'd just had Foggy wasn't going to say anything about it now.

"Anything buddy, you know that."

Matt smiled up at him, and it was a little shy, a little hopeful. "Wanna dig into the pizza and watch a movie?"

It was late. The pizza was cold. And they had an important meeting _early_ in the morning. 

But Matt's face was Earnest and he was injured and he was going to try to balance his time between the city and his civilian life. And he really was a hero.

"I absolutely do, Matty."

“There’s no way.” Underneath Foggy’s doubt, Matt could hear intrigue though, and just an edge of excitement.

“Come on Foggy, what makes you say that?” Matt asked, teasing.

“I’m not climbing on a crate in a dirty alley. Not in these pants,” Foggy asserted. “And is that old fencing you expect me to climb?”

Matt struggled between amusement and disappointment.

It was early evening, after work and a light dinner. Nothing about the night was particularly special, but Matt had wanted to do this forever, even before Foggy knew he could.

He loved the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen and the general peace they brought with them. Being up in the air with most sound stuck below him was a respite of sorts from the relentlessness of the city. He liked having it as a private escape, but he also wanted to share it with Foggy.

Since he was already sharing so much else, Matt figured he might as well. And he’d always thought it would go better than this. 

“When did you get to be such a stick in the mud, Nelson?” he asked. “You’re not that old.”

“I am a professional, though,” Foggy replied. “I’ve got a business and a failed political campaign and more savings than I know what to do with.”

Matt tipped his head. He was pretty sure he could still convince him.

They’d been spending more alone time together now and it was fantastic. Really. Almost like being in college again, which was so great Matt didn’t even have a frame of reference for the feeling.

It was during this alone time that Matt noticed the shifts in Foggy the most. Previous Foggys would have laughed and protested, but given in with just a little wheedling from Matt.

“Sounds to me like you could buy new pants with it,” he said reasonably. “If you even need them. I set this up to be easy. And I’m wearing suit pants, too.”

Foggy hesitated at that, and Matt fought down his grin because it wasn’t a done deal quite yet.

“You famously make bad decisions. And I resent the implication that I need easy-mode.” But Foggy shifted his weight on his feet and Matt could hear cracks in his refusal. He could hear him coming around. 

Matt hopped up onto the first crate and stuck his hand down. “C’mon Fog, trust me,” he said. And then, after a moment of hesitation: “And you know, I’m a professional, too.”

Foggy was totally silent for a long moment and Matt wondered if he’d somehow crossed a line. With Daredevil more out in the open than ever before, and both of them occasionally joking about it, he’d thought it was okay. It was during awkward silences like this that he thought he might be wrong. 

Then Foggy huffed and the shift of his hair gave away the fact that he shook his head. His hand closed around Matt’s, pulling against Matt to hoist himself up beside him on the crate. “Alright Murdock. Lead the way.” He sounded fond and only a little exasperated.

Matt blinked and let his hand fall to his side. “Really? You’re not just humoring me?”

“Oh I’m definitely humoring you, but I’m not going to lie and say I’m not a little curious. Your sales pitch wasn’t half-bad.” Foggy turned and tipped his head back, probably taking in the path that Matt had tried to make so Foggy could get up to the roof. “But you knew that, you got me into the alley after all.”

“Hoped maybe,” Matt replied, and he got the impression that Foggy was smiling softly at him.

Foggy nudged his arm. “Well here I am. Show me the city.” 

Matt allowed his grin out and bounded up to the next story of the building without another word. He heard the sound of Foggy grumbling, and then the slow, deliberate climbing.

Before tonight, Matt had searched the neighborhood for the perfect place that could be accessed without having to free-climb walls. And then he’d figured out how to make the way navigable with crates, boxes and fencing to assist. Anything that kept Foggy from having to use window ledges, fire escapes and masonry to reach the roof.

And now, it was paying off more or less the way he’d hoped.

He took care not to get too far ahead of Foggy, and it sounded like his path was working, even if Foggy was swearing all the way up.

But the way Foggy’s breath caught when he made it to the rooftop told Matt that it was all worth it. He knew it was dark by now, which meant all the city’s lights were on. And though the view couldn’t be as impressive as it was from the Empire State Building, Matt had to imagine that it was still dazzling.

“You know, if you wanted to show me the world from your perspective, why couldn’t we have just used the roof access on your building?” Foggy asked. But it was lighthearted. Curious, not complaining.

“Because I wanted to show it to you the way I do it. Besides, you’ve been up there before. I thought I’d show you something different.” It was higher and in a different part of the neighborhood, one of Matt’s favorite spots because the sounds of traffic blended together into something new and it was right over a bakery.

Matt felt weirdly like he was showing his apartment to someone new, or taking his glasses off in front of them for the first time. Then he shook his head. This was _Foggy_.

“So why here?” Foggy asked. He sounded more at ease. His heartbeat was climbing down from the pace it had set while he was climbing up to the roof. "Because this place is actually kind of beautiful and I want to know if you can tell with your senses."

That was good. Because Matt was also doing this as kind of an all-encompassing, belated apology. 

For a lot: dying, living but not sticking around, all the time Foggy worried and all the tense moments since that night Foggy found him on the floor, under the Daredevil mask.

"Yes. That's why I wanted to bring you here. I figured it must look as beautiful as it sounds and smells. I don't know if you noticed the bakery."

Foggy perked up at that. 

"Well you know how to pick ‘em, Murdock." Foggy had finally relaxed all the way. He was loose and he breathed easy and his heartbeat was the steady rhythm Matt had been listening to for years now. 

He smiled and wandered over closer to the edge.

"Only the best for you, Fog."

Foggy snorted. "Sure.” He trailed behind Matt and his hair brushed against his neck as he took in the view. Matt was thrilled. He’d known Foggy would like being up here. Whatever he said, Foggy was always up for an adventure.

“Okay don't get me wrong, this is nice but are you kissing up for something? Did you do something? Or are you going to do something?" He tried valiantly to keep his tone light, but Matt could hear the wariness in the way Foggy held himself, like he was bracing for bad news.

Matt's heart sank a little bit, but he didn't show it. Especially since Foggy wasn't exactly wrong.

He sat down on the ledge of the roof and didn't miss the twitch in Foggy's heartbeat that made him smile a little. Still, he sighed. It wouldn’t be much of an apology if he didn’t tell Foggy what it was.

“Yeah,” he admitted, turning his face toward Foggy’s, aiming for where the breath and the heat was the most concentrated. “I’ve done a lot of things. And I’ve hurt you and put you in danger in the process.” Then he heard Foggy’s breath stutter, and his heart started beating rapidly and Matt could smell stress hormones.

He turned around more, confused what got such a reaction, and hurriedly continued. “You deserve better and I’m sorry, and I want to try to make it up to you. I pushed you away when I should have been honest with you, and I want to break the cycle in the future. I can’t guarantee that I’ll do it right, but I’m going to try to be better.”

Foggy’s breath of relief was like a gust of wind. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed again.

“I swear to God, I thought you were going to say I was better off without you and that you were disappearing again. I was getting ready to kick your ass,” Foggy said. He walked forward and sat down next to Matt, a foot or so away from the edge of the building. But he was close enough to lean over and knock their shoulders together.

Matt shook his head. “No–no I’m not leaving again. I promise.”

Foggy went quiet, and Matt knew he was looking at him, looking for more information in his face. “You can ask me what you want to know,” Matt said quietly. “I’ll answer you.”

“I’m trying to figure out how to apologize back to you. I can’t make any gestures this grand.” Matt opened his mouth to protest, and Foggy cut him off right away. “I did my fair share of running away from you, too. And I still don’t think my motives were wrong, but I maybe should have reacted better. Fought harder when you pushed me away. It isn’t like that part of your personality is new to me. So I should tell you that I’m going to stick around, too. No more leaving. Even when it gets hard again.”

Matt frowned, but he couldn’t think of words because a tight corner of his chest loosened up and a wave of relief and something like joy rushed into its place. He would never understand how he’d come to earn this kind of loyalty, but he was overwhelmingly grateful to have it. 

His reply was choked when it finally came, “You’ve got a deal Mr. Nelson.”

He heard Foggy smile and the shifting of his clothes and muscles that meant he was making himself comfortable. “Good. You know how much I like doing business with you, Mr. Murdock.”

They settled into a companionable silence and Matt was stunned that this had gone so smoothly. But their relationship hadn’t always been rocky, and maybe that was how they could be again. He couldn’t deny his life was better with Foggy (and Karen) in it.

It reminded him of how eager Foggy had been for them to work together again. Maybe Foggy had felt like his life had a hole in it, too, when Matt wasn’t there.

Around them, the steady, rumbling, mechanical sounds of cars starting and stopping and late bakers arriving downstairs to prepare for the next day built up. It was probably those thoughts about their friendship that had Matt breaking the comfortable bubble.

“You know, I’m glad we’re doing this again,” he said. “Not just the firm, but all of the things we used to do. I missed you.”

It was the most open he’d ever been with Foggy about how he felt — aside from the times he told him he loved him and meant it more than he let on — and his own pulse fluttered to reflect it.

When he replied, it was Foggy’s turn to sound choked up and he threw his arm around Matt’s shoulders. “I missed you almost every day. God, come here.” He pulled Matt closer into his chest so he could put his other arm around him. “And I’m glad to be with you again, too. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Matt sank into the hug and pulled his arms away from his sides to return it, closing his eyes and basking in the sensation of his favorite person surrounding him.

They didn’t move away from each other for a long time, and Matt realized just how long it had been since they’d actually hugged. Even when they did take their arms back, Foggy stayed pressed close and Matt relaxed into the warmth.

He tipped his face into the breeze and closed his eyes. All of this was going better than he’d expected when he’d planned it.

“I do have a question, though. Now that I think about it.” Matt hummed for him to continue and Foggy took a deep breath like he was still putting the question together.

“Why rooftops?”

Matt considered the answer. He loved being up high above the street because of the sensory experience, but there was more to it than that. The first time he’d ever done it — thirteen, climbing to the roof of the orphanage, his heart beating wild and reckless, the way he felt lit up inside like he was coming more alive — he’d gotten addicted.

“This is probably the most ‘me’ you’re ever going to see,” he said eventually. “Up here, out of sight of anyone, I don’t have to act like a regular blind guy. I’m freer up here than I feel anywhere else.”

Foggy made a distressed sound and Matt rushed to explain. “It’s not about needing a bigger life than Matt Murdock has. It’s just that I can only be this part of myself when I’m up here. I can run and climb and do all the things I can’t do when all people see is a blind guy.”

“That makes sense,” Foggy said slowly, and in a less upset tone. He took in a deep breath and Matt felt his eyes as easily as if they’d been touching. “You can do all of that with me, too.”

Matt frowned, not sure he’d heard correctly. Not prepared for what Foggy was offering.

“I mean that you can be yourself with me. Karen too probably. You can talk about the things you sense, and I don’t know what situation this might come up in, but you can run when I’m around, or just move without pretending you don’t know the terrain. I don’t want you to have to hold back with me.”

“Foggy —”

“Uh, uh.” His hair whipped against his neck. “Don’t thank me. I’m your best friend. I want you to trust me and talk to me. Obviously, you can have privacy, but if there are things you want to share or you just want to run around Central Park at night with me on the lookout, I want you to know that you can come to me.”

Matt nodded, speechless, because he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be an endless stream of gratitude. He said a silent _thank you_ to God instead, for creating Foggy and putting him in Matt’s life.

“We’re rebuilding this friendship, Murdock, and I don’t want any bricks out of place this time.”

“You’ve got it, Nelson,” Matt said.

Wind picked up from down the street and blew the familiar smells of the city toward him while it caressed them and took the edge off of the day’s heat. Wrapped up in all of it was Foggy and the sound of his heartbeat, the solid warmth of him at Matt’s side, and this promise that they were going to work.

Foggy finished off the last of the paperwork with a flourish and triumphantly transferred the sheet of paper to the rest of the stack. 

He couldn't help the feeling of accomplishment that rushed into him. This was the biggest case they’d done since opening the firm, and Foggy felt good about what it might mean for their future.

Nelson, Murdock & Page had only been open for a few months, and Foggy was head over heels with his work and committed to it in a way he hadn’t been at HC&B.

It was a relief, too.

Restarting the firm was one of the first thoughts he’d had after seeing Matt again, and every time Matt didn’t shoot down the idea outright, the excitement had built. When he’d finally proposed it, Foggy had been nothing but sure that it was a good idea.

And it was paying off, which felt like more than he could have asked for. 

“Matthew, we’re going to be rich by Christmas,” Foggy declared, though Matt was across the hall and tucked away in his own office. Later, they would celebrate. For now, it was just a throwaway thought. “Honestly buddy, this firm’s becoming everything we always dreamed it would be.” With a lovely researcher in the form of Karen Page.

There was a tapping on his door then, and Foggy was surprised to see Matt on the other side grinning at him.

“And we have another client coming up now,” he said brightly.

If Foggy listened for it, he could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairs outside and he perked up. “Is it weird if we’re on the other side of the door just waiting for them?” he asked as he gathered his legal pad and a pen. The answer didn’t really matter, he wanted to be ready regardless. He was in a good mood.

Matt shrugged. “Maybe, but it also shows commitment.”

“There you go,” Foggy said, pointing at him with the pen and joining him in the doorway. “I like the way you think.”

“I thought you kept me around for my charm and good looks.”

Foggy laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “If only, buddy. But no, I’m going to need your brain.”

In the “main office,” the door opened and because Karen was the only one out there, she was the one to greet the client.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Less than a normal greeting. She didn’t sound unhappy or wary, but Foggy frowned in Matt’s direction only to find Matt frowning back. As one, they drifted into the office.

“Well, this is a law office, so I was thinking I’d get some legal help,” Ellison said, glancing up when Matt and Foggy came into view. He nodded at them. “Great, it looks like I’m in the right place.”

Karen looked worried when she glanced at Foggy, and she crossed her arms over her chest. But this didn’t have to be bad, he told himself.

“What kind of legal help do you need?” Matt asked. He definitely didn’t sound as tense as he looked. More like the friendly neighborhood mostly pro bono lawyer.

“Is this a formal consultation?” Ellison asked.

“Sure,” Foggy said, gesturing toward their big table. It wasn’t overwhelmingly formal, but it was what they had.

For the first time, Foggy noticed Ellison carrying a briefcase. Matt tapped his way over to the table and set his phone to its audio recorder. Karen left to get a pen and paper and Foggy sat down beside Matt, flipping to a new page on his pad.

As Ellison sat down across from them, he whipped out a stack of legal papers and pushed them across the table toward Foggy and Karen.

“The Bulletin just got served with a libel suit,” he said simply. “Fisk is the plaintiff, and his lawyers are highlighting stories we published that you wrote.” He directed the last part to Karen with a pointed finger. “I haven’t really had a chance to go through it, but those are the basics.”

Foggy pulled the pages closer and skimmed over them. Matt frowned and Karen looked a mixture of angry and horrified.

“Stories I wrote?” she asked. “What the hell are they contesting?”

Ellison shrugged. “Like I said, I haven’t had a chance to look at the details, but it seems like they’re focusing on attacks against his character.” Foggy was getting that impression, too.

“And why are you coming to us? Doesn’t the newspaper have a legal department? Specifically, for cases like this?” Foggy asked.

Ellison’s laugh was harsh. “You think we can afford a good legal department?” he asked, and Foggy’s stomach sank a little. “That’s why I’m here. You guys are good and you’re cheap.”

“But libel cases aren’t,” Foggy pointed out. Libel suits were long and complicated and so fucking expensive, and the odds weren’t in their favor, even up against someone like Fisk.

Matt was still frowning and Foggy wondered if he was listening to Ellison’s heartbeat or something for some reason.

Ellison sighed and leaned over the table. “Exactly. They’re trying to get us to settle to shut us up. Or they’re going to bankrupt us. It’s all about intimidation. And I’m not settling. I stand by our reporting and the stories we publish.”

Foggy sighed, too, but his was internal. He knew how this would play out, and he turned his head to find Matt looking at him just the way he was expecting him to be. There was a questioning quirk to his eyebrows though, so he was legitimately asking what Foggy thought, which was something.

“You can’t settle,” Karen said, and her voice was final. “You can’t just back down from Fisk.” Ellison smiled at her.

“Matt? Foggy?” she asked, and she looked expectant.

“I don’t know what they’re asking, but I don’t think you should settle, either,” Matt said. There was a hard set to his jaw, and he was practically vibrating with angry energy. He kept it under lock, though.

That just left Foggy. And he agreed, he hated Fisk and he was furious that he was trying _again_ to hurt another part of Hell’s Kitchen, especially after he’d already damaged the Bulletin.

But. Libel cases were a lot of work. They required a lot of time, resources and money and they were probably going to lose.

That was how it worked, that was why they were effective in attacking news organizations. Karen might not know that, but Ellison had to, and Foggy knew Matt did. 

“Foggy, your call,” Matt said softly. And this was what he’d been asking for.

He took a deep breath, took in Karen’s angry, worried face, Ellison’s obstinance, and Matt’s quiet curiosity.

“It’s going to be hard. And complicated. And probably dangerous, since this is Fisk. But you’ve got a point, we can’t let him win without stepping up to the fight.”

Karen cheered and Ellison looked like one of many weights was off his shoulders.

Foggy didn’t like it, especially since that weight was now transferred to him. But Matt looked confident and satisfied, and he was smiling that winning smile at Foggy. And Foggy realized he wouldn’t be shouldering it alone.


	3. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out libel law is complicated and, when used by people trying to hide things, bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: this is very simplified. As you’ll see Foggy mention a lot, libel law is complicated and it has a long history. There’ll be things I didn’t know, things I overlooked, and things I just didn’t talk about because ultimately none of you are here for an explanation of five different types of defense and what situations they apply in.
> 
> Props to my mass media law professor and the digital media law project, I wouldn't have been able to parse the nuance without either one. As I’m not a lawyer or a law student all of the legal information is either from my class notes, the 2015 AP Stylebook or the digital media law project.

“So, I’m beginning to think that Ellison came to us because he thinks we’re suckers,” Foggy said. He brandished another printed version of one of Karen’s old articles toward Matt, who was currently listening to a different one.

“Well, we can’t really refuse. We care about Karen and we need the business,” Matt replied, tapping his keyboard to pause the recording.

“Like I said. Suckers.”

Foggy sat down at the table across from Matt and pulled a pen toward him. It was surreal to relive these events Karen had written about, especially after everything that had happened with Fisk again.

Even while Foggy scoured the stories for libelous qualities, he remembered details about a simpler, more innocent time before they knew what a threat Fisk was, and he read between the lines and remembered what was going on in his life at the time.

He hadn’t expected this kind of stress to come with this case.

Matt seemed to be similarly affected. But it didn’t show beyond a general tension in his jaw and shoulders, the way his fist tightened on the table.

Foggy wondered if they would have to talk about it at some point.

Not now, of course. Now, they returned to research, the only thing they’d been doing so far, and the comfortable flow was only ever interrupted by the sound of typing or anytime Foggy scratched notes in the margins of a story.

Though Foggy realized it only seemed quiet to him. Part of him, the bored part that wanted to do anything other than live through Fisk’s slow poisoning of their neighborhood again, wanted to play another round of ‘what can you hear right now?’

Matt beat his interruption to the punch when he hit his spacebar with more force than usual.

“Do you have any idea what they’re actually accusing her of?” Matt asked. He’d ripped one earbud out and turned toward Foggy with an angry slant to his mouth. “Nothing I’ve listened to has mentioned the specific piece they’re contesting and you’re able to skim through it easier than I am.”

That was another layer of the stress.

The suit was expansive and mentioned most of the stories Karen had written for the Bulletin, but though the suit claimed character damage because of defamation, it didn’t point to anything specific.

Foggy raked a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes toward the suit that was open on the corner of his desk. He’d skimmed through it a few times, but he had yet to settle down and read it. They’d only been hired yesterday, and there was a lot to get through.

“I haven’t caught it yet, no.”

Matt made a frustrated noise and turned back toward his laptop. There was also a braille file open beside him that he was skimming his fingers over.

As much as it sucked, Foggy was at least glad to be doing it with Matt again.

Because all of the reading brought something else back too. Sometimes Foggy looked over at Matt, bent over his own work, and he saw an echo of the Matt he remembered from the beginning. He saw the way he dove into a task and pursued it until he hit the end, be it dead or natural.

He was focused, passionate and relentless, just like he’d always been. And Foggy couldn’t shake the feeling of gaining equilibrium. A full circle now since it had been knocked off-course.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Karen asked. She leaned into the room, around the door, and she looked uncomfortable.

Matt turned his face toward her and flashed a smile. All charm, all light, confidence in its purest form. Foggy couldn’t help being impressed.

“It’s hard to tell, there’s a lot to get through,” he said. The frustration was gone, too.

Karen brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at the table with papers strewn over the surface with a conflicted look on her face. She bit her lip and crossed her arms. “I wish I could help.”

Foggy played along without noticing. He considered being annoyed by it when he did, but if lying would save Karen feeling worse than she did, he could do that. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Karen,” he said brightly. “We’ve got it covered. We trained for this in law school.”

She cracked the smallest smile, and Foggy decided to take what he could get. It was a new outlook on life that he was trying out.

“So what’s going on?” Karen edged a little farther into the room, still with her arms crossed, and Foggy felt bad for her.

Because she was implicated in the suit, she could help her defense but she couldn’t serve the researching role she normally would. It was possible no one would call it, but Matt and Foggy had both decided to play it safe when it came to Fisk’s lawyers and a case that could break the Bulletin and Karen. For now, she was hardly involved.

Foggy sighed and glanced over his papers. “Not much. We’re just reading through everything. Even some of your old articles!” He waved the top sheet of one in her direction

Karen made a face. “Ugh. I don’t know how you get through this stuff.” She was glaring at one of the other stories, reading it from a distance.

“Like I said, law school,” Foggy reminded her. But he was distracted by Matt, who was frowning on the other side of the table. He’d gone still, too. No more fiddling with his pen while he listened to his screen reader, but motionless.

Then his mouth opened into one of his half-smiles and he turned his face toward Foggy.

“What?” Foggy asked.

“I think we’re onto the right type of stories,” he said, which didn’t make any sense to Foggy until a beat or two passed.

“Wait, really?” He sat up straighter and turned to his computer.

Matt nodded. “These,” he gestured uselessly at his screen that Foggy couldn’t see. “Karen wrote them after Fisk’s first arrest, and she didn’t hold back.”

Foggy located the shared folder on his own computer and pulled up what he was pretty sure Matt meant. He felt his heart beating faster as his eyes flicked over the document he pulled up.

“And it would have been so easy to trip into defamation,” Foggy said, wondering, because the pieces were falling into place for him too. The more he read on the screen in front of him, the more his spirits lifted.

“Matthew, I think you’ve got the first break in the case. Good catch.”

In the doorway, Karen looked cheered, and Matt was beaming at him from the other side of the table.

Once again, Foggy found himself straddling the strange feeling of being in the present and in the past, but he pushed it to the back of his mind to focus on this small victory.

The wind was sluggish tonight. Though it was refreshingly cool, Matt could feel it as it moved, like he could reach out and make contact with a solid mass.

Since the night was relatively quiet, and the day-long buildup of humidity threatened to drown him, he decided to call it.

As he climbed down from his perch on a rooftop, the smell of cigarettes and garbage drifted up to him, alongside the normal sounds of the city. He loved nights like this, when he could go back home feeling like he’d done his job. Both of them.

The libel case was a major undertaking and it was going to be hard, especially because this was Fisk. But Matt felt like they could handle it. It wouldn’t break them now.

Because working with Foggy again reminded him of all the reasons he’d decided to spend his whole life with him. Business and personal.

There was just no one who understood him quite the way Foggy did, and no one else he could work with so well.

Elektra had understood him. Undoubtedly. She’d seen Daredevil and Matt Murdock at the same time, and she embraced the duality. Relished it, loved both sides. She’d been more in love with the Daredevil of him, though, and Matt was beginning to realize Daredevil didn’t make up the core of who he was.

He, Jess, Luke and Danny had figured out how to work together as they practiced, but he couldn’t help thinking they didn’t quite get him as a person yet. They understood him as Daredevil, who was also a blind lawyer named Matt Murdock.

Even Karen, though she knew him better without the mask and accepted it all the same, still didn’t get him quite like Foggy did.

Foggy knew him as Matt. Loved him as Matt. And Matt knew he’d underestimated how important that was.

Foggy was taking longer to understand Daredevil, but he was trying, and that meant more to Matt than anything else.

They could handle a bogus libel claim.

As he made his way over the rooftops, Matt passed Clinton Church. He could hear the new priest — Father Gladwell — inside, doing the kind of routine managerial work people didn’t associate with churches. Taking inventory, reciting a to-do list, putting things together to prepare for weekday Mass in the morning.

Matt felt unease twist in his chest at the information. He’d been back to Mass once or twice, but it was hard. It was hard to adjust to Father Lantom’s absence, and all Matt really wanted was to hear _him_ deciding which hymns would be in Sunday Mass. Smell the caffeine, incense and laundry scents on him. Feel and hear the way his footsteps fell, how he breathed, his heartbeat.

He heard another heartbeat – along with everything else – though. A mix he was becoming more familiar with.

Maggie wasn’t doing anything special, just making the rounds in St. Agnes, telling children to settle down and go to sleep. Still, Matt followed her movement through the orphanage. He even moved so he was closer.

He learned there was a little girl who didn’t want to go to bed. Her room was too dark and she was afraid of her nightmares coming back. She could hear the way the orphanage settled in the wind, and she said it sounded like monsters in the dark. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Maggie’s voice was gentle, but firm. Matt heard the rustle of her habit and the shifting of her weight that meant she’d knelt. “If you go to bed now, I’ll see about getting a nightlight. And I find the best way to keep nightmares away is to try to tell them you aren’t afraid. Maybe reach out to your guardian angel for protection. Do you remember the prayer?”

Matt moved closer still, caught up in her voice, interested in what else she might say.

The little girl quietly recited the prayer for her guardian angel, but she hadn’t relaxed much. Maggie reached out to her.

“If you really can’t fix it, I’m always here to help. Nightmares are more scared of me than I am of them. But I really think they might feel the same way about you.”

Maggie’s heartbeat caught and Matt realized he’d gotten too close to the window. He quickly swung out of sight.

“You should give it a try, Gloria. It’s worked for a lot of people in your position.” There was a smile in her voice and Matt made his way toward the back door of the orphanage. The one he’d learned how to sneak out of when he was eleven.

“Don’t tell me, you need help with your nightmares, too.” Her voice was bone dry, but also amused and fond, when she came outside a few minutes later. Matt was slowly relearning how to dissect her tone, and he wondered if that affection had always been there.

“Nah, I’ve beat all my nightmares by now. And I doubt thinking happy thoughts will help me get rid of them anyway.” He pulled his mask off and wadded it up in one hand.

“True. I’ll bet you dream of all kinds of monsters. Trouble is you can draw from real life.”

That was too close to reality. “If I dreamed. Usually I don’t remember them.”

“You don’t get enough sleep.”

Matt shrugged and she shook her head.

“Were you coming by for something, Matthew?” she asked.

“Not really. I was just nearby.” Matt paused and weighed whether he should add what he said next. “I heard you talking to her, and it sounded familiar,” he said quietly.

Maggie smiled at him and he could tell she wanted to reach out and touch him. She would hold herself back, but she wanted to. Matt wasn’t sure how he felt about any of that.

“You’re welcome to come back anytime you want some familiarity.” More carefully she added, “Father Gladwell is a good man, and he understands that he can’t replace Paul. He’s not trying. The congregants seem to like him.”

Matt opened his mouth, but she went on. “I know it’s different for you, but don’t be a stranger, Matthew. Paul wouldn’t want you to avoid Mass just to avoid his memory. In fact, he’d rather you find it here.”

Matt was silent for a moment because she’d struck to the heart of the issue. He hadn’t been pretending when he’d suggested they could talk and get to know each other better. They’d had coffee a few times. Talked about his life, how the practice and his friendships were getting on.

They had yet to really talk about Jack or their past or Daredevil, but Matt always figured that was just around the corner. It would have to come up eventually, and he couldn’t decide how he felt about that either.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

“You should. How are you doing on the other fronts?”

Matt settled back against the wall. “We’re working on a new case. Fisk’s suing the Bulletin for libel, and we’re on the defense.”

“You don’t sound as upset about that as I would expect.”

“I am. Fisk has made the Bulletin suffer enough, and this libel suit is bullshit no matter how you approach it. It’s just meant to stall for time, ruin faith in the Bulletin and maybe bankrupt them,” Matt said. After a beat, he added, “I think we can pull it off. Foggy isn’t so sure, but he’s too practical sometimes.”

Truthfully, he was furious, but he didn’t know what Fisk was going for yet. This was Fisk, it had to be more than a simple libel lawsuit. And it was Fisk, so it was going to be more sinister than a libel lawsuit. The suit was going to be about more than winning with the law.

And he had no idea how he should approach that web.

Maggie hummed and leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’re still in business then. How are your friends?”

“They’re fine. They’re both stressed about the lawsuit, but we’re all working through it.”

“Good. And is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen getting involved?”

She was just curious and trying to keep up an open line of communication, but Matt still almost felt like he was talking to Foggy.

Matt hadn’t decided yet. During his regular patrols he kept his ears open for any rumors, but no one was mentioning Fisk unless they were cursing him for leaving them vulnerable or praising him for opening the field. So as far as he could tell, there wasn’t much for Daredevil to get involved with.

Foggy wouldn’t like it, either. Matt couldn’t ignore that.

“Not yet,” he said, already feeling guilty about keeping the option open, but there was no other way to do it.

They fell into a soft silence. It wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t feel a pressing need to extract himself, and it was nice. Matt suspected that she was appraising him, looking for something in his face or body language to tell her more than he had.

“It was nice of you to check in, but I need to make sure Gloria beat her monsters. And I suppose I should let you get back to yours,” Maggie said after the silence stretched out for a minute or so. She straightened, and Matt mirrored her action.

“Have a good night, Sister,” he said.

“You too, Matthew.”

Matt waited until she closed the door before he bounded up to the rooftop again. The breeze was blowing more freely now, rustling through his hair. 

They were going up against Fisk again and Matt knew it was only a matter of time until Daredevil would have to get involved. He still didn’t know how it would happen or when and how he should bring it up to his friends.

He couldn’t help feeling like he was keeping Foggy out by not telling him now — undermining all they’d agreed to — but Matt reasoned that it was possible they could solve the problem entirely through the law.

He knew better than to hope, though. And he knew he’d need to cross that bridge eventually. 

Matt still felt weird about it when his phone buzzed in one of the inner pockets of his makeshift suit.

“I can’t sleep, but I assume you’re still out terrorizing the criminal underbelly. When you’re done do you want to come over and obsess over libel law?” Foggy’s text said.

And for a moment Matt’s guilt was forgotten. He just felt light again about Foggy wanting to be with him.

“I can be there in ten,” he replied. 

~~~~

Foggy was pacing and squeezing a stress ball.

Matt tried not to be distracted. By the wild way his heart was beating, or the frustrated breaths he blew out every ten steps. The pacing was bad enough. Five steps to the left, five to the right, over and over again in a steady, unbroken rhythm.

Fortunately, Matt had learned about and adjusted to Foggy’s pacing during college. Karen was faring far less well.

He could tell she was watching Foggy because she was tapping her pen against the desk in time with Foggy’s footsteps. Matt wasn’t sure she was aware of it, but he was. And she had her own annoyed breaths.

“Foggy, for the love of God, stop.”

“I’d love to, Karen, I really would, but I can’t when I’m hyper aware of the fact that we still haven’t made real progress on this case, and it actually turns out to be bigger than we thought.”

His voice was frayed and as much as Matt wanted to reassure everyone the case was under control, that he could feel they were on the right track, he couldn’t help but agree with the premise of Foggy’s argument.

Luckily, they’d figured out the argument when they’d stumbled upon the right time period of articles. Less lucky, the suit covered multiple statements and stories Karen had written over a few months.

And now, the difficulty was finding the source and the context for the various fragments of statements laid out by the suit.

“Isn’t it just a matter of time?” Karen asked. “The case is just going to build right?”

Foggy squeezed the stress ball harder.

“That’s part of the problem. Pretty much everything about a libel case is difficult,” Matt said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well the burden of proof isn’t on us. We have to respond to what Fisk’s team alleges. Which is that you ruined his reputation and biased potential juries. And there’s no absolute defense against defamation.”

“Okay, but I didn’t lie in any of those stories. They’re all true,” Karen protested.

Foggy flung an arm out and he stopped on the third step. “That doesn’t matter.” Matt hummed and Foggy rolled his eyes before he corrected himself. “It doesn’t totally matter. Truth is the best defense for libel. Defamation is just one part of a libel suit, and a defamatory statement can be true or implied to be true.”

Matt could almost hear Karen’s spirits sink, but Foggy wasn’t done. This rant was fueled by anxiety and frustration and he wouldn’t stop until he’d wound all the way down to the root of his stress.

“Plus, a defamatory statement isn’t necessarily an untrue statement, just something that injures a person’s reputation. There are four other elements to it,” Foggy resumed the pacing, maintaining the same rhythm.

“This is why libel cases are complicated and weaponized against newspapers,” he said. “Six out of ten times the media loses a libel case, and they’re expensive. Though I guess Ellison isn’t overly worried about that.”

Both of their heartrates were up and Matt could both smell and hear the sharpness of stress pumping through their veins. Foggy was still squeezing his stress ball, but now Karen had clenched her hands into fists and she was tightening and loosening them.

“But,” Matt said, cutting into the erratic tempo that had filled the office and leaked into his nervous system, “there’s a single, general claim that all of these examples point back to.”

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to pick up on it, but Matt was pretty sure he was right. Though the suit listed several stories and statements, there was one theme they were claiming to be libelous. He’d been following the pattern for close to fifteen minutes now.

“All that matters is that you had proof whenever you wrote about him being in charge of a larger crime ring. Particularly, that he committed fraud with some of his finances.”

All of the activity in the room stopped and the sudden silence allowed Matt’s attention snap to the activity on the street until he righted himself.

“What did you say?” Foggy asked. He sounded incredulous, but Matt was convinced that he’d picked up on the pattern, too, even if he hadn’t been aware of it. He’d been distracted from the stress. Matt didn’t blame him.

“We should rename the firm Murdock, Nelson & Page because I figured out the key to the case.” A smile rose to his face by end of his sentence and he couldn’t help himself. The rising excitement in the room was too hard to resist.

“Hey, some asshole with super hearing told me years ago that it sounded better the way it is.” Foggy’s voice could barely contain his elation and it echoed back to him from the walls. “Some asshole who really figured out the thing?”

Matt nodded vigorously. Across the room, Karen was biting her lip and she’d crossed her arms, but her tension wasn’t the same and she was fighting a smile.

“In all of these stories they flagged, there’s language implying or outright stating that Fisk was in control of a criminal syndicate and that he made fraudulent deals,” Matt said.

Foggy rushed to his desk and started leafing through printouts. He’d picked up a pen, too, and the swishing of his suit jacket and swinging of his tie, told Matt that he was looking back and forth between the papers on his desk.

“Oh, that’s so defamatory,” he breathed, swiping stray hair behind his ear. Matt heard the scratch of him scribbling notes and the dragging of his pen as he underlined or circled things. “You know what, Matty? Maybe we’ll change the name of the firm after all. You’re carrying the team.”

Matt smiled, pleased. It felt good. Not just the triumph, but solving this without having to stalk criminals through alleys or find the right people to apply the right amount of pressure to. And, of course, making Foggy sound like that. Rushed, wild happiness, the sound of his muscles loosening and his posture straightening.

From the other side of the room, Karen smelled like relief. Her crossed arms had tightened and she was still biting her lip. But he guessed they were turned up because the sense of her anger and worry had faded from the room. 

“Let’s revisit that, counsellor,” Matt replied. “We’ll see how the rest of the case plays out.”

He caught the warm smile Foggy threw in his direction.

It was moments like this that Foggy understood why Matt’s secrecy and drifting away had hurt so much. And now he marveled at his ability to get even the littlest bit over it.

But it was two in the morning and Matt was on Foggy’s couch, smiling at a joke. The only light in the apartment was the old lamp on the side table and it softened most of the bruises and red, healing cuts that littered his torso.

Beyond that, Matt looked like the guy Foggy had always known when it was just the two of them. His hair was messy and ruffled, his smile was wide, and his shoulders were loose.

The heap of black cloth on the floor beside him kind of ruined the image, but Foggy could overlook it.

“And then he tried to argue intent, and you can guess how well that went.” Matt was still laughing about the story of Brett showing up to arrest the person he’d been after tonight.

“I can actually picture Brett’s face right now,” Foggy replied. “Did he say anything?”

“Just the usual.”

The thing was, Matt looked happy and Foggy had long-ago promised to do everything in his power to make that stick. And it made Foggy happy second-hand, so it was a net-win.

“Hey, do you want anything to eat? I’m not an expert, but tonight sounded strenuous.”

Matt paused and Foggy could see the knee-jerk refusal. No Foggy, he was fine. He was Matt Murdock, he didn’t need anything.

But that look passed and he nodded jerkily. “What do you have?”

Foggy covered his surprise with a laugh. “Buddy that’s the wrong question, but I can’t imagine you being overly interested in much of what I have to offer.”

“When have I ever not been interested in something you offered?” Matt asked with his head tipped to the side and a goofy smile on his face. 

And Foggy could think of several passive aggressive responses to that, but he told himself not to dwell on it anymore. They were moving forward.

Besides.

“Fried mac and cheese balls.”

Matt immediately made a face like the mere thought made him want to vomit.

“Related: fried mac and cheese dumplings.”

“Foggy, stop.”

“Mac and cheese spring rolls! You remember coming across those?”

“No, I’ve actively blocked those from my memory.”

“Mac and cheese pizza.”

Matt’s face eased. “That wasn’t as bad.”

“You still looked like you were being tortured as you ate it,” Foggy pointed out, and he laughed at the look on Matt’s face.

“I don’t get it, man. You like mac and cheese.”

Foggy had learned early on how to recognize Matt’s “I regret my decisions but I’m sucking it up to be polite” face, and he’d never seen it in regards to mac and cheese, but now he wasn’t sure.

“Shit. You do like mac and cheese, don’t you?”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t have any objections. It kind of depends on the brand, I guess. But the only thing that really changed after the accident was that I could taste the preservatives. And I got really good at filtering those out.”

He grimaced, which suggested the learning process hadn’t been fun. And then his face got quieter and a little farther away.

“That was one of the things Dad could make, so I grew up eating it a lot,” Matt said quietly. Foggy’s next joke died on the tip of his tongue. “When I got to the orphanage, it was one of the only foods I would eat. It reminded me so much of him that I ignored how it tasted and eventually I adjusted. It was also easier for the nuns to make in big batches for pretty cheap.” His shoulders shifted again and his face was still turned toward his lap. 

Foggy let the silence go for a few beats.

It was the most Matt had talked about his past in a long time, and Foggy couldn’t remember those snippets of information ever being so mundane, but deeply personal at the same time.

Judging by his posture, Matt hadn’t expected it either. Foggy weighed all of his possible responses and hoped he didn’t pick the wrong one.

“So you’re saying your relationship with mac and cheese is complicated then?”

Matt smiled. It was distant, and even though it didn’t light up his face, it was still real. “You could say that, I guess.”

Satisfied that he’d brought them back to stable ground, Foggy got up. “Here, I think I have some of those granola bars you like.”

Matt didn’t say anything, but Foggy could tell he was tracking him around the room. He tilted his head up when Foggy returned with the box and flashed a more convincing smile.

But the mac and cheese conversation sat with him, and he watched Matt’s face as he dug around in the box, and words he’d never dared share with anyone bubbled up.

“That’s how I feel about meat sometimes.” His eyes drifted away from Matt’s face, but he could see the frown in his peripheral vision. “Obviously it doesn’t keep me from eating meat or enjoying it, but you know, I grew up with all of this pressure to take over the shop someday.”

They’d briefly talked about this before, recently even, but Foggy hadn’t ever gone in depth about what bothered him. Matt might have been aware of the tension, but it had been going on for longer than he’d known the Nelsons.

He noticed that Matt was paying even more attention now, and the way his face was focused reminded him that Matt could probably hear his heart beating faster. He could probably even tell that Foggy had started sweating nervously.

“And they always made it seem inevitable. Even when I got into law school, then when I graduated law school. They’ve always acted like I would come back to manage the shop,” he said. “I came close, too. When you were gone and I had that soul sucking job, I really thought about it. Giving into the guilt and becoming a butcher like they’ve always wanted.”

Foggy couldn’t stop now. He’d finally opened the floodgates and the water was rushing out. And he had no idea if the banks would hold. He just knew that he couldn’t anymore.

“I think they thought they were offering something better. They could see I hated my job and they thought coming back to the family would be good for me. But they’ve also always hated that I became a lawyer. I don’t think they ever expected it to last, so they always thought I’d come back eventually and they chose then to swoop in.

“And Matty, I almost did it. You came back into my life just in time.” Foggy finally gathered the courage to look at him. Predictably, he was frowning, and he looked about to say something.

Foggy beat him to it.

“And I know that’s a really minor problem, it just makes my relationships complicated too, and since we’re talking about that…I think this is something I’ve wanted to get off my chest for a while now.”

“Foggy, it’s fine,” Matt said, with just a wisp of a smile on his face. He’d leaned forward and put his hand on Foggy’s forearm, and his face was all soft and earnest. “You’re allowed to vent about your family. And anything else that bothers you. That’s what best friends do, right?”

And…yes. That was exactly what best friends did. And Foggy realized there actually wasn’t anyone else he’d talk to about this. Once upon a time, he hadn’t thought he should, and then Daredevil happened and he hadn’t thought he could.

But now he realized he’d been wrong. If he was going to tell anyone how his family made him feel, it was going to be Matt. He’d just been waiting for him.

He laughed. “You’re right, Matty. Absolutely right.” Matt was still looking softly at him, and after a moment he patted Foggy’s arm and leaned away. “Thank you.”

That brought a smile to his face. “Of course, Fogs. Anything.”

And Foggy thought he could believe him.

~~~~

The office was a mess with papers scattered over several surfaces and some larger sheets taped to the wall. They’d also dragged out some of their old law books, and his laptop was whirring endlessly because of all the tabs he had open.

Libel law was complicated.

But they were building a case at least; principle, detail and technicality by principle, detail and technicality.

On the wall, they’d made a chart listing what they’d have to defend against, as well as what they’d accounted for. It was a disturbingly asymmetrical chart. 

“Maaatt,” Foggy moaned, interrupting their quiet productivity. Matt’s head twitched his way but Foggy shook his head. “I’m gonna need you to pretend to look at me, buddy. This is important.” Matt sighed but obliged.

“Yes, Foggy?”

“Have you found any new sources that Karen used for this story?”

Matt made a face like he’d immediately put together what Foggy was worried about, which was both impressive and comforting. Then it shifted to one that was less of both.

“I don’t suppose you have?”

Foggy let the sound of his head thumping against his desk answer for him.

The story with the most explicit accusation of Fisk’s involvement in the criminal underground of Hell’s Kitchen was the bullseye in the center of the suit, and as he read through it over and over, Foggy was beginning to appreciate why. It had everything.

Matt lifted his head toward the door and Foggy looked up at the quiet sound of it opening.

Karen had come bearing coffee and cinnamon rolls and the impression she hadn’t slept well. She was nearing Matt levels of letting her guilt eat her alive, and Foggy wasn’t sure any amount of eye makeup could hide it. Even though she’d been mostly banished from sitting in on this case, she was well aware of what was going on.

Still, she shot them smiles, weak ones but she tried, when she saw them sitting there. She quickened her pace to set the goods on top of one stack of law books.

“So, how’s it going today? Has Matt made any breakthroughs yet?”

Foggy happily rose to the bait. “I resent that implication, Miss Page. I pull my weight around here. Exhibit A.” He gestured at the papers on the wall with all of the information they had scrawled over it.

“Well you could argue, Mr. Nelson, that those are only up for your benefit, so you aren’t exactly contributing to the _firm_. You’re just catching up,” Matt quipped, leaning toward the coffees to grab the cup meant for him. 

“And I could argue that it’s me doing my job, which fundamentally contributes to the firm,” Foggy replied, reaching for a cinnamon roll. They were from the best place in town, little round, tightly rolled balls of dough with a healthy smear of cream cheese frosting. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure it was the bakery Matt had taken him to the roof of.

He half-expected Karen to pitch in another joke, but she only squinted at the papers and turned to read all of them.

“What do we even have to prove?” she asked, still squinting, still reading.

“That you knew what you were writing about,” Matt said at the same time Foggy said, “Technically it’s not on us.”

Karen turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, like I said before, the burden of proof is on the prosecution. Fisk and his people are the ones who have to prove defamation, whether it’s false but not an opinion, that your stories are explicitly about Fisk and that they were published with actual malice,” Foggy explained. Karen looked at him blankly, but Matt wore a delighted smile.

“What’s actual malice, Foggy? I haven’t detected any explicit hatred dripping from these articles.”

A look at Matt’s face would have suggested he was asking with utter sincerity — despite the fact that he of course knew the answer — but he knew what he was doing and he enjoyed it.

“Actual malice is just the horribly named idea that you either knew you were lying or didn’t care if you were lying when you made your defamatory statements. It’s really only a factor for public figures who file libel lawsuits and Matt and I are pretty sure that’s what the court will decide Fisk is. They have to prove that to hold you or the Bulletin liable.”

Foggy’s voice got closer and closer to ranting pitch as he was reminded how much he hated libel law.

“Really? Fisk never actually achieved explicit power outside of his underground crime ring,” Karen protested. She was frowning again, but it was the problem-solving frown, which cheered Foggy up a little.

Matt had leaned back, at-ease and unhelpful. “You explain it better than I do, Fog,” he said after a few more seconds of silence.

“Bullshit, Murdock,” Foggy grumbled. “You remember all the protests outside of the hotel the FBI set him up in?” Karen nodded.

“Fisk is a ‘limited-purpose’ public figure because he became infamous when he decided to call press conferences, try to take over the neighborhood and do criminal things out in the open. Honestly, he would have been considered a public figure just from the stuff he did before he was put away the first time because he was the main figure in that controversy. After this last time, there are probably grounds for calling him an all-purpose public figure, even.”

Karen nodded slowly but she didn’t look totally on board and Foggy was almost overwhelmed by how much he liked her. “Okay, out of curiosity, why does it matter?”

“It affects how much weight a libel suit has. Public figures have a harder time proving libel than regular people do.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Kind of. Public figures have better lawyers and more money and higher stakes, so they can drag it out. And this is Fisk, nothing about this is good. And if there’s even the slightest inaccuracy, even if it’s implied, we’re going to need hard proof to address the actual malice.”

Foggy gestured to the chart, aware that it was only helpful to him.

“What does that mean?” Karen asked.

“Documents are best, but a witness you sourced who would testify would probably work.”

“Speaking of which,” Matt finally said. “Karen, you wouldn’t happen to have a source for this would you?” Matt gestured at his laptop and Karen rounded the corner of his desk to peer at the screen.

Foggy glanced down at the article he’d been reading. It was one of the more bombshell ones where the accusation against Fisk was more explicit. As his eyes ran down the screen a horrible thought settled in his brain and sank down to his stomach.

All of a sudden, the cinnamon roll didn’t feel good anymore.

“Yeah,” Karen said. “They worked close to Fisk and witnessed a lot of his plans. The attribution is right there. They weren’t involved in any of the planning, but they had to carry orders out. They never got more important than that and they would only speak anonymously or on background. Ben found them, but I convinced them to talk.”

“Did you use them more than once?” Foggy asked, tight, and trying hard not to let his alarm infect his tone. It didn’t appear to work on Matt.

“Yes, but they aren’t every anonymous source cited. I found other people who had suspicions about Fisk and wouldn’t let me use their names, but I didn’t quote any of those here.”

“You just quoted from this first person?” Karen nodded and Foggy took a deep breath. But it was Matt who spoke up.

“You need to tell us who they are.”

“No.”

“Karen.”

“No, Matt. Foggy.” She cut her eyes over both of them. “They told me this information with the promise that I would protect their identity.”

“Karen, they’re a vital source of information and the court isn’t going to trust the word of someone anonymous.”

“Matt, New York City has shield laws that say the court can’t compel me to reveal any of my sources’ identities.”

“Not in libel cases! This is the person you’ve quoted as saying Fisk ran a criminal empire. This person can prove you didn’t make that up. The court isn’t going to trust them if they aren’t willing to reveal their identity because there’s no way to judge how reliable their information is.”

Matt had that stubborn clench to his jaw and set to his shoulders. Karen had the tilt to her chin and flash in her eyes. They were literally squaring off.

“Hey,” Foggy said. He rose from his desk and moved between them, just to make himself feel better. “Hey. That’s not the only option. Karen, did you use documents to corroborate what your source said? Or do you have any documents that do that?”

Karen’s eyes flicked up to him. “Of course. Several sources pointed me to them or gave them to me.”

Foggy sighed and stepped away, back towards his desk. “Okay. Okay, let’s roll with that. Get the documents, or tell us where we can find them, and we can go from there. Right, Matt?”

Matt breathed out, straightened his shoulders and his tie and nodded. He didn’t apologize, and he was still tense, but Foggy knew when he’d gotten as much as he would get.

“Okay then. Let’s move forward with that.”

~~~~

Foggy was a little surprised when Matt showed up at his apartment. After today, he’d figured Matt would release all of his stress on the streets and go home to develop more of it by obsessing over the case.

But here he was. On a Friday night, when Foggy just naturally assumed crime went up.

Matt hadn’t gotten hurt tonight, and he kept insisting that his shift had been light and easy. Foggy still wasn’t sure how to believe him when he could clearly see the bruising.

The idea that Matt didn’t think serious bruising counted as ‘getting hurt’ was a different matter entirely.

And once again, Matt was in the damn black get-up that served as his costume these days.

Tonight, he wasn’t regaling Foggy with tales of his near-brushes with law enforcement, but he was restless and clearly wired on the vigilante version of a runner’s high. His bouncing leg shook the table a little and Foggy kept debating whether he should mention it.

Matt was lit up with something though, and Foggy couldn’t tell if it was pride, or just leftover adrenaline. He noticed that Matt’s knuckles were raw and scraped, despite the wraps he wore.

Before he was even aware of it, Foggy asked, “So did you fight for justice especially hard or were the forces of evil exceptionally strong tonight?”

Matt made a questioning noise and came down a little bit from his cloud. Then he skimmed fingertips over his knuckles and reached up to touch a spot of dried blood on his lip Foggy hadn’t even noticed.

“Uh, the former,” he said, without any of the guilt Foggy expected. His eyes were shining too brightly.

“Another human trafficker?”

“Drug runners. With designer drugs that could kill a lot of people. Opioid-based.”

“So more than one.” Matt nodded and a grin flashed across his face. Pride then.

“Oh,” he perked up even more, but the sharpness fell away. “I have some ideas for the case, too, when we get the documents Karen’s retrieving.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Foggy said, because it looked like Matt was ready to launch into his idea. “Are you telling me you brainstormed legal defense while you were fighting drug dealers?”

“Yeah.” Matt relaxed back into the couch, and he said it like Foggy had asked if Matt could comment on how his apartment looked.

For a moment Foggy was yanked back to college, and he was across the dorm room from Matt, who was writing a paper and reviewing tax law at the same time. And when Foggy questioned him, Matt just smiled and said he was probably messing one of them up.

In the present, Matt had gone quiet and tipped his head onto the back of the couch. His face was quiet too, no trace of the previous hyper energy anywhere.

“Fighting doesn’t actually require a lot of active thought. It’s mostly physical reactions that are mostly automatic by now, like muscle memory. Stick…he uh — Stick made sure I could fight back without overthinking it because that slows you down.”

His voice had gone faraway, and Foggy remembered talking to him in the police station, Matt rambling about Elektra killing Stick. The way his voice had caught and the distress in every line of his body. Foggy hadn’t really been paying attention at the time, with everything else going on, and now he wondered if Matt was going to let loose about that.

“You know, I have to split my attention in a lot of different directions all the time,” Matt finally said. Soft and contemplative. A weak smile came out. “It’s not too hard to add one more thing.”

Foggy eased forward, peering into Matt’s face, taking in his body language. He didn’t seem devastated like he had that night.

And then Foggy remembered that night had been the one when they’d thought Matt died. He swallowed hard and sat back, forced himself to focus on Matt’s face. Here. Alive. Now.

“Foggy?”

Matt’s face displayed a level of concern that convinced Foggy his whole body was betraying the path his thoughts had gone down. He also looked upset, and Foggy barely dared to guess what he was thinking.

He’d probably be wrong anyway because apparently there was still so much he didn’t know about his best friend.

And no matter how honest Matt was, Foggy wasn’t sure they’d ever be able to close that gap.

Because there were a lot of grim details to fill Matt’s life, and Foggy didn’t need to know every one, and he didn’t want to pressure Matt into thinking he had to share them all.

He just wanted to be able to be his friend. To go back to knowing what Matt was thinking at any given moment. Foggy had Matt’s acknowledgement that, as best friends, they were going to tell each other things and support each other. He had his promise of not keeping secrets.

And he’d already filled so many holes by learning how Matt processed the world.

Instead of answering Matt, he lunged forward and latched his arms around him. Matt caught him without thinking about it, and returned the hug after only a second of thinking about it.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He knew Matt would probably be able to hear the slight fray in his voice, and he was happy for it because it might be able to explain better than Foggy ever could. Maybe he’d be able to tell how much time Foggy meant for the sentiment to cover.

Matt tightened his arms enough that Foggy was hyperaware of his ribcage. “I’m okay, Fogs. I’m okay.”

This time, Foggy knew he could believe him.

Karen had never really paid attention to the call for staying out of the case, but now that she was back in the office with them, it felt right again.

Matt could hear the sound of her fingers on her keyboard and trac pad, and feel the little gusts of air she blew out when she sighed. The smell of the coffee she’d made this morning combined with her hand lotion, and the steady beat of her heart.

Across the table from him, all of Foggy’s sounds and movements and smells filled the room. Sometimes, he had to try harder to focus on them because he was so used to them being in the background of his life.

But recognizing Foggy’s solid shape, the idle way he hummed under his breath while he was thinking and the smell of everything from the laundry detergent he’d used since college to the underlying scent of old coffee and pastries was comforting.

It was the start of a new week, and close to a week since they’d been brought onto the case.

While Karen looked for her documents, Foggy looked for the instances where Karen’s sourcing was strong and Matt researched precedents that might let them build a case on neutral reportage privilege, even if New York hadn’t decided if it was a valid privilege.

It was moments like this where Matt had to crush the feeling that they were moving surprisingly quickly through this defense.

The suit was obvious bullshit. Fisk had probably only lobbed it in an effort to intimidate them, remind them he was still breathing. Some things were that easy.

Matt had always known he wouldn’t be rid of Fisk forever, but he was secure that it would be a long time, still. Fisk was in federal custody. The officers who’d taken him away were clean, and none had any connection to New York, so there was little chance of Fisk knowing who they were and having dirt on them.

This was just his last-ditch attempt to get under their skin, and to punish the Bulletin.

“Uh Karen? Are you okay there?”

Matt tuned back into the office.

Karen’s pulse had picked up and her breath was muffled, so Matt assumed she had a hand pressed over her mouth. She was tense, too, though she hadn’t moved from her spot, and motionless.

Foggy’s heartbeat only ticked a little faster, most of what Matt read from him was the shift in his posture. He was wary, not worried. One of his hands was braced on the table, and he’d leaned in Karen’s direction.

“Karen,” his voice was firmer. “Come on, talk to me.”

“What’s going on?” Matt asked. There was a visual element here he couldn’t make up for.

“Well, Karen froze over there. She’s turned white and she’s just staring at her computer screen with wide eyes. If I had to describe it, I’d say she looks horrified,” Foggy said, providing exactly what Matt needed.

“They’re gone,” she finally choked out. And if Matt hadn’t been able to read the panic from her vitals, it was dripping from her voice.

“Come again?”

“The documents. They’re all gone. All of the digital files that I used are gone,” she snapped. “Everything. There’s nothing left.”

“The physical copies?” Matt asked. As everyone else’s alarm rose, calm had settled over him.

“When I went in before to ask for them, they said the files had been pulled.” Her voice had gone distant and numb.

“By another patron?” Matt prodded.

Karen’s hair slid against her back and shoulders as she shook it and shrugged. “I didn’t ask. They just told me I could look for copies online.”

“Wait, wait,” Foggy stood up, probably to let out some of the anxiety flowing through his system. Matt heard him tapping his fingers against his leg, too. “You said there were some documents you were given though, right?”

“Yes, but the really good ones that we’ll want to use in court were publicly available.”

“Could we make a public records request?” Foggy half-turned back to Matt, who shook his head.

“It would take too long.”

“Fuck,” Foggy swore, sitting heavily on the edge of the table.

Matt’s brain started whirring. He didn’t need to know what kind of records Karen had been after to know Fisk was behind this. By the time he’d been arrested, he had a ring around him. Even though some of them had peeled off and returned to leading their own lives of crime, not all had.

Matt was already running through his mental list and recalling where and how to find them when a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Hey.” Foggy again. “I don’t know where you’re going, but you need to wait a second. There are other ways to get records. It’s just going to cost some money.”

Matt frowned until he realized what Foggy was saying.

“I don’t know. She’s been AWOL. I haven’t sensed her in months,” he said. He didn’t want to ruin the certainty in Foggy’s tone. “And I doubt she’d take the case anyway. This isn’t really her thing.”

Foggy shrugged. “If you have any better ideas, I’m seriously happy to entertain them. But I’ve worked close with her, too, and I honestly think Jessica Jones is our best bet if we want these documents.”

Matt sighed. He didn’t have better ideas. “I’ll find her and ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for establishing a regular schedule. Last-minute candidate visits mean last-minute hotel reservations and a lot going on this week. This probably won't be the last time, but I'll always try to post weekly, at the end of the week.


	4. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are heating up and others aren't quite falling into place, but it's not time to worry yet. 
> 
> Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, last weekend and the buildup to it was intense. But I interviewed my favorite presidential candidate so.

Jessica ended up being in the first place he looked. The only sound of electricity he could hear came from an apartment two doors down, and hers was almost drowning in the smell of whiskey.

Matt blinked against the assault, and knocked on the frame of her door, though he suspected she wouldn’t respond.

While he waited, he focused his senses on signs of her, and was barely surprised to only just find her at her desk.

“Miss Jones?” he tried after counting a minute.

Her groan was muffled and it sounded like it had been pulled out of her throat by force. “Go away,” she called.

Matt considered his options, remembered her strength and went back to the elevator.

It took almost no effort to get to the roof, and little more to find her window and scale down to it. He tapped on the window with the tip of his cane.

He heard the shift of her sitting up and turning toward him. Her hands tightened on the back of her chair. “I told you to go away, Hornhead,” she growled.

Matt took that as his cue. He opened the window and climbed inside.

“I’m here to hire you.”

“What for?” she spat. Her breath was sharp with alcohol, and Matt could tell she hadn’t eaten anything today, probably hadn’t since sometime yesterday. The anger bristling through her whole body wasn’t because of him, and judging by the state of her, it wasn’t new.

Matt wished he could ask what had happened, but he wasn’t here for that, and she wasn’t going to share with him anyway. So, he moved forward, and rounded her desk at the same time.

“We need you to dig for missing documents to defend against a libel lawsuit filed by Fisk, targeting the Bulletin.”

“We?” Slowly, the venom leaked out of her tone, and it returned to the layered cadence topped with annoyance he was used to. She shifted, her hair dragging against her shoulders as she sat back. There was real curiosity under the question, and a hint of sarcasm.

Matt was abruptly reminded that the last time they’d spoken, he’d been practicing alone. And the last time she’d seen him they’d been under Midland Circle.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page. I’m here on behalf of Nelson and Murdock,” he said, moving past those thoughts.

“So, you’re alive, and you’re back in business then,” she observed. There was an accusation under the words.

“Despite all efforts to stop me,” Matt replied. “I don’t know if you heard about what happened with Fisk.”

“I heard.” She crossed her arms.

Matt nodded, clutched his cane in front of him and tapped it twice against the ground. “Well he isn’t going down without a fight, and he’s decided to bring it to the legal arena this time —"

“No.”

“Jess, come on. We need your help. Karen can’t investigate this since she’s implicated in the suit and there are limits to what Foggy and I can do.”

“I’m not getting involved with Fisk stuff. I’ve heard the stories.”

Matt sighed and ducked his head. She was right, and he hated having to ask her. But if there was a way to get this information, Jessica Jones would be able to do it.

“Please. You don’t have to touch Fisk, but you’re the best investigator I know, and I know you can do it mostly under the radar.”

She scoffed. “Subtlety is definitely not one of my super powers. And if I even get close enough to breathe on this, I’ll have touched Fisk.” There was finality in her tone and he could guess she was glaring at him. “I thought Fisk was the Devil’s guy.”

“If it comes to a fight, I’ll handle it. I just need you to look for documents. Please Jess, that’s not something I can do and we need that to put all of this to bed. He hasn’t been stopped yet.”

“And what makes you think this time it’s going to work?” Jessica demanded.

He’d avoided asking himself that question. Every time it occurred to him, Matt had pivoted away to something more worthy of attention.

“Because it’s my only option. I’ll fight Fisk until he stays down or calls, because I’m not letting him hurt anyone else,” he replied. It was the easiest answer. “And this time I need help to do something we’re not going to get otherwise and that we need to put him down again.”

Matt couldn’t know for sure, but he strongly suspected she rolled her eyes at him. He gritted his teeth and banished memories of how hard she’d been to work with before. He only focused on how much he actually liked her.

“Look, I know you haven’t been around in the real world outside of your ‘fighting for the city’ schtick for a long time, but I am. And I’m not interested in getting involved in your bullshit, too. Not again.”

Unlike Foggy, there was no give in her tone when she refused. And the last words landed heavily on his chest just like she wanted. So, Matt just nodded and turned back to the window.

“Fine. You can stay here and wallow in the ‘real world,’” he snapped. “But Hell’s Kitchen is your neighborhood, too, Jess. Fisk probably already has you on his radar and letting him shut down the Bulletin isn’t going to do anyone any favors.”

Then he left, but not before he slapped the folder of story samples and document descriptions on her desk.

On the roof, Matt decided he couldn’t go back to the office yet. From the amount of warmth he felt on the side of his face, he figured the sun was low enough for shadows to provide him cover if he was careful. Though he didn’t feel careful.

_“_Do you think it’ll work?” Karen asked.

“We don’t really have any options better than Jones,” Foggy said, leafing through a folder on his desk. “And you know, Matt’s been pretty good at making miracles happen lately.”

Karen lifted a shoulder and nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She went quiet, staring at the sheets of paper on the wall, and Foggy circled a phrase on one of his printouts. It probably wasn’t important, but it never hurt to bookmark things.

“I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.”

Foggy looked up. “What?”

“This,” Karen gestured at the office, covered in papers, folders, law books, Matt’s braille copies of everything and the sheets on the wall. “Why did we think Fisk was going to go away this time? Because he was led out of his penthouse by the police, covered in blood? That didn’t stop him last time, why did we think it would be different?”

“Karen —”

“What I’m saying, Foggy, is that he came back before and we should have seen him planning to try something like this again. Now that he knows we’re an obstacle, he won’t stop until he tears us down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Karen.” Foggy stood up and walked toward her with his hands out. She reminded him of all the reckless stuff she’d done last time they’d faced him, and he hated it.

He also hated that she had a point, and he had to tie that thought down before it could get loose.

“Karen, it’s not going to help anything if we freak out or give up. Yeah, we’ve had him down before, and I can’t say I didn’t maybe dread this,” he gestured at the entirety of the office, “would happen.” Foggy swallowed, and pulled together all of the reasoning that kept him going.

“But this time there’s even more evidence of his crimes,” he continued. “And he’s committed _federal_ crimes.” Karen gave him a doubtful look and Foggy laughed, shaking his head. He’d hit his stride.

“No, I see where you’re going with this, but that’s important. And look at this lawsuit, there’s real evidence here of his criminality. Evidence that could be used against him in court, but isn’t now because it’s tied up in a different, unrelated court case that benefits him. This lawsuit should be proof enough for us that we actually have him pinned this time.”

“We’re seeing the libel suit as a silver lining now?” Karen asked.

“No, we’re seeing it as a sign that maybe the nightmare’s coming to an end. I’m serious, Karen. The lawsuit is bad, yes, but the image isn’t bad. Especially if the press reports on it.”

The doubtful line between her eyebrows had smoothed out, and there was an amused quirk to her lips as she looked at him now. He took that in for a moment longer, satisfied that he’d succeeded in helping her calm down.

“And with that cleared up, it’s way past time for you to go home. Leave this cursed place,” Foggy said.

“What? No. There’s still writing to dig through.”

“Yes, but none of it stuff you’re allowed to touch, Miss Page. Trust me, you’ll get your sleepless nights too. For now, take advantage of the break.” 

She still looked hesitant. “I take that to mean you won’t be coming with me.”

Foggy shook his head. “Nope. As you pointed out, I have reading to do.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Matt said he’d check in when he was done with Jones, but I don’t think he’s coming back in.” Matt had been gone for a lot longer than they’d expected, so either he had to really sell the case, or Jones had killed him for asking.

Karen scoffed, then shook her head. “A few months ago, I would have told you not to wait up, but he’s changed, hasn’t he?” It was an observation, not a question, and though it was careful she looked a little like she’d woken up in a new reality.

A spot of warmth grew and spread through Foggy’s body because she was right. Matt was here now, and he was making an effort to inform them when he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — be. 

“Yeah he has, and I really think it’s going to stick this time,” Foggy said and he couldn’t keep the hope and pride out of his voice. It was too much of a development to not have feelings about.

“Okay, okay, fine. You know, I think I have some documents at home. I know these stories only really rely on two or three sources, but someone gave me records for one of the less relevant stories.” She raised her hands in surrender when Foggy frowned. “So, I’ll look for those when I get home, and I’ll bring them in tomorrow so we can look through them.”

As if she wanted to prove she was serious, she slung her bag over her shoulder and gathered her phone and keys. She even took a few steps toward the door.

Foggy eased back. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Karen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you, Foggy. Try to get some sleep tonight.”

Foggy listened to the sound of her footsteps as she moved down the hall, and as she took the stairs. He counted them and, if he strained his ears, he could hear the open and close of the side door the firm used. 

The farther Karen got away, the slower Foggy tried to breathe. Until that just wouldn’t hold it back anymore.

He was glad he’d been able to comfort Karen, and he wished that reasoning would work on him.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen to them when they lost this case. Of course, there was a chance for them to win, but that would mean betting the jury hated the media less than they hated Fisk.

And that was a dumb bet.

Juries weren’t kind to news organizations that attacked people, especially if the plaintiffs could convince people the attacks were unfair. The simple truth was that everyone knew Fisk was a criminal, but they didn’t know the situation in the level of detail that Karen’s stories talked about. Some of it hadn’t made it into Fisk’s original trial in the first place, and some of it was buried deeper than Fisk’s trial had even gone.

Foggy dared to hope the court would pull some jury members from Hell’s Kitchen, but he knew it was a long shot.

He went about brewing another pot of coffee and returned to his desk and folders.

Because there was a lot of reading to get through, and they definitely weren’t going to beat Fisk if it didn’t get done. 

His phone buzzed, and Foggy reached for it without looking. “Hey Matt, it’s about time,” he said. “What did she say?”

“Frankie, I hope you take more care when you talk to your clients on the phone,” the voice admonished.

Foggy planted his head in his hand and held onto the sigh that rose from deep in his chest. He wasn’t Matt, but he was pretty sure his heart rate had gone up. Because of course it wasn’t just Fisk.

“Our clients happen to find me very charming, ma,” he said, injecting a brightness to his voice that almost surprised him. “Do you need something?”

A glance at the phone number told him she was calling from downstairs.

“I was just wondering if you could check the storage up there for more butcher’s paper. And maybe take a quick inventory, it’s been a while since we stocked up,” she said immediately. After her pause, she added, “If that’s not too much trouble.”

Foggy cast a despairing eye over his desk and glanced up at the ceiling like God might help him this time. He tried to put together a combination of words that would explain how busy he was without it seeming like he thought he was too good for them.

Ultimately, he couldn’t do it, and he settled his elbows on the desk.

“Sure, ma. What else should I be looking out for?”

He tried not to worry about Matt never checking in. 

Matt hadn’t managed to purge any frustration by the time he’d gotten back to his apartment. Meditating hadn’t helped, and Foggy hadn’t responded to Matt’s text telling him they’d need to rethink their strategy.

Of course, it had been two in the morning. Foggy kept trying to tell him normal human adults with jobs were generally sleeping at that time. Often while beside Matt, on the couch, well past two in the morning.

Despite that, he’d barely gotten any sleep anyway.

And when he walked up to the office, something was off.

The air smelled strongly like stale coffee, stronger than it should have been for the pot they’d brewed in the early afternoon yesterday. Matt stopped and focused on the sensations he normally tuned out.

Only one light in the office was buzzing, and its steadiness and warmth suggested it had been on for a long time. There was also the faint whiff of sweat and the remnants of adrenaline.

And Foggy was already there, head bent over his desk.

Now that he was in the room, with Foggy none the wiser, Matt could smell drying ink stains, some of it mixing into the natural scent of Foggy’s skin. Foggy’s shoulders were tight, like he’d been bent over his desk for hours. His lower-back and hip muscles, too, like he hadn’t moved at all.

He made sure to tap his cane just a little harder against the doorframe before he tried to speak, and both felt and heard the way Foggy started. Before he could say anything, the wheels of his chair rolled back and he swiveled to face Matt.

“Good morning,” he said, then winced. Matt felt his eyebrows rise at the way Foggy’s voice scraped out of his throat.

“Have you been here all night?” Matt asked. It was a stupid question. He could tell Foggy was wearing the same clothes and also that he probably hadn’t slept. So, he pivoted to a more pertinent issue. “What have you been doing here?”

“Oh, just work.” Foggy’s voice had smoothed out and brightened. His pulse hummed just a little too fast, but the coffee smell was hanging too heavy in the air to convince Matt it wasn’t just that. 

But Foggy wasn’t one to skip out on sleep if he didn’t have to, and they were nowhere near a deadline for the case that would require all-nighters yet.

Yet.

Matt remembered the news he had to deliver, and he regretted that the stress levels were going to rise. He wished it wasn’t too humid to open the windows.

Last night, he’d leaned into the breeze, letting it carry smells and sounds to him as he made a slow tour of Hell’s Kitchen’s rooftops. He’d been on the lookout specifically for any whispers of Fisk, anything about raiding the office of public records, hints of a plot getting off the ground.

Matt had been hyperaware he wasn’t in the suit, but he didn’t let that keep him from following a trail. One that ultimately hadn’t led much of anywhere. But he’d found some interesting threads blowing in the open.

He’d still thrown some punches, breaking up things that really didn’t need Daredevil, to feel better. He liked to think he was getting better at pretending to be sighted.

“Speaking of work,” Foggy said, pulling Matt out of his contemplation. “I have a text from you about the case. I take it Jones didn’t bite.”

There was an edge of a question in his voice, but no surprise. Matt pursed his lips and shook his head.

“She wants to stay as far away from Fisk as she can,” he said. “And she was practically swimming at the bottom of a bottle, so she’s preoccupied too.”

Foggy sighed and raked a hand through his hair. It wasn’t as soft and fluffy as it normally was in the morning. Matt barely even caught a whiff of product. So Foggy really hadn’t left the office at all.

Matt couldn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary on him, other than the signs that something had upset him enough that he hadn’t even tried to sleep. He meant to press, but Foggy interrupted. 

He breathed in slowly through his nose and held it for a long second. “We’re going to need a plan B, then.”

“I’ve got neutral reportage privilege,” Matt offered. At the moment, he was more concerned with Foggy’s heartrate and the subtle tremble in his hands. He didn’t smell strongly enough of food, and Matt guessed his last meal — a sandwich from the shop — had been about eight hours ago.

“Does New York recognize neutral reportage?” Foggy’s voice was steady, which was something at least. Still, far too many things were wrong, and Matt didn’t like it.

“The Court of Appeals hasn’t said either way and the lower courts can’t agree. It’s still worth a shot,” Matt said breezily, quickly sweeping the issue to the side. “Let’s get breakfast.” He flashed the smile that usually made Foggy feel better and held the door open behind him.

Foggy was quiet, facing Matt, and Matt assumed he was being stared at.

“We’ve got work to do.”

“It seems like you’ve been doing work for hours, and it’s nothing we can’t do on the way toward breakfast,” Matt said.

“Pick that up with your super senses?” Foggy asked after another handful of long seconds. But his hands had come up to grip the armrests on his chair and he was lifting himself to his feet. Matt listened to his joints shift, and the muscles tighten as they were called into action for the first time in hours.

“Technically I pick everything up with my super senses,” Matt pointed out. “I can’t help it.” Foggy had grabbed his bag and approached the door, and Matt stepped back into the hall.

“I know you think you’re being cute, Murdock. And I don’t think it’s quite as effective as you do.”

Matt grinned and followed Foggy down the stairs. Foggy’s words were dry, but he didn’t mean them. There was too much light leaking into his tone, and Matt let himself feel proud for making it happen.

Especially since he still needed to break the bad news.

As they got closer to the closest diner, Foggy’s body loosened, and Matt could sense some of the anxiety lifting away now that Foggy wasn’t marinating in it.

They got waffles, which made Foggy even happier.

“So, what happened? And tell me more about the privileges arguments,” Foggy said, spearing a chunk of waffle. Matt didn’t even mind that his nose was saturated in the too-sweet smell of the syrup and that it coated his tongue.

“I never even got a chance to explain the case, and she refused. Like I said, she’s not interested in getting Fisk’s attention.”

Foggy scoffed. “There’s no way she doesn’t already have his attention. I’m surprised he hadn’t tried to draw her in. A woman with super strength and a tentative grip on her anger issues seems like his kind of target.”

Matt shuddered to think about it. Because it was one thing for the thought to cross his mind. It was far more real if Foggy thought it too.

He opened his mouth to tell Foggy about looking, but not finding, anything when he hit the street afterward. But then again, nothing had happened, and the last thing Matt wanted was to hear Foggy’s stress come back.

“I know, but I can’t force her to dig around for documents,” Matt said. He cut off a bite of his own waffle, skimming it through a bowl of syrup before eating it. Silently, Foggy shook his head because he’d disapproved of Matt’s spartan approach to syrup for as long as they’d known each other.

“Dammit,” Foggy sighed, cutting into his waffle again.

“Why were you in the office all night?” Matt asked.

“Work.” Foggy hesitated a beat before he said it, and then he seemed about to say something else. “And then my mom called and I helped out with the shop a little. And then I had to finish the work I’d started when I was finally done with that.”

Matt put his hand out, found Foggy’s arm without any trouble and squeezed a little.

“Foggy, no you didn’t,” he insisted. Because they weren’t at that point yet. “We have time, we don’t need all-nighters yet.”

“Without this documentation we do,” he said reasonably. “Karen wrote defamatory stuff, and without a credible, on-the-record source testifying to its truth, we’re screwed. If Karen can get them to reveal their identity or find back-ups or something, that would be great. Until then, we have to find something else. I have no idea when you turned into an optimist, but come on, Matt.”

He fell back into his seat and took another bite — a bigger one — of his waffle. The stress was back, simmering under the surface, and the smell of it washed out all of the scent of syrup. It settled unpleasantly on Matt’s skin.

And then Foggy coughed a little, re-set his shoulders and straightened up in his seat. All of it so minute that Matt wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Speaking of work, refresh my memory of neutral reportage and how it could help us.”

The strain and weight were gone from his voice and Matt blinked. He sounded normal. The cortisol trickled through his system still, but nothing about Foggy’s voice suggested it.

“Um,” Matt took care to cover his confusion. “For neutral report we’d have to make the case that Karen’s reporting served a public interest, and the underlying claim about Fisk operating a crime syndicate is accurate and reported without bias.

“There are some requirements about sourcing, but they wouldn’t have to be the anonymous source or the documents. It’s a bit of a stretch, but we could make it work.”

Foggy hummed and Matt could practically hear his brain turning the information over and fitting their case into it.

In the meantime, Matt tried to take the information that Foggy was hiding his anxiety and fit it into the broader scope of their relationship.

After their slow breakfast and walk back to the office, Foggy felt better about the case. Not good. Not really any more confident.

But at least they’d come up with _a _path forward.

Matt had gone quiet on their walk back, head ducked down, but he was still a strange optimistic voice in all of this. And considering that they’d made progress amid waffles, Foggy was sure he was just thinking.

Instead of him, Foggy focused on the weight of Matt’s hand on his elbow, his fingers tucked right where it bent. The knowledge that Matt was doing it because he wanted to, because it was a level of assistance he genuinely appreciated.

It had been a while since he’d felt the gentle pressure of having Matt tethered to his arm, and he was surprised by how much he’d missed it. How it had always made Foggy feel like he was contributing something to Matt’s life.

Even now, Matt had explained how he could navigate all by himself — all blind people could — but holding on to Foggy took some of the mental burden off. And with how Matt had explained his abilities so far, Foggy was open to doing anything to shoulder what he could of it.

That, and he’d long ago committed to doing anything to make Matt feel safer or more secure.

And that was how that pang of longing for when their relationship was simpler turned into something more like pride now. Pride that he could still be there for Matt, that Matt_ wanted_ him there. Pride they were finally moving forward.

It made him feel bubbly, which was new.

It only lasted until Matt closed the door to the office and turned around to face him. His shoulders were set and his mouth was a tight line, and Foggy was really sick of that look.

“You aren’t going to like this,” Matt started off, and Foggy crossed his arms over his chest. “But I was thinking maybe we could bring Daredevil into the investigation, and try to find the anonymous source.”

Foggy felt his heartbeat increase and the way Matt’s forehead wrinkled told him he heard it. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to make the case, and Foggy cut him off.

“No.” Matt opened his mouth again. “No, and I’ll tell you why. We actually want to use this evidence in court.”

And now Matt was frowning. “I get that Foggy. That’s why I think I should investigate, try to run down a trail. I’m not stealing evidence. I’d be going places we can’t as the two of us. There are people out there who know where this information is and I know how to look for _them_ at least.”

Immediately Foggy was suspicious. Normally, _before_, he might not have noticed it. But there was something in Matt’s voice that made Foggy think he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Oh, you have ideas then?”

Matt groaned and folded up his cane more aggressively than usual. “I haven’t done anything, Foggy.” He sounded far more irritated than he deserved, but he wasn’t done speaking.

“I know where Fisk’s old associates are and how to find them, and I’ve been trying to hear if anyone’s talking about leaks. Those are only the obvious places to start. And yeah, after Jessica the other night I went around the neighborhood to get a sense of what Fisk is still doing here.”

Foggy was of two minds about that, and unfortunately his more reactive side got its thoughts together first.

“It sounds like you have done something,” Foggy pointed out. “And were you going to tell me that, by chance?”

Matt was quiet for a second and Foggy’s reactive brain told him it was because Matt was trying not to perjure himself.

“I hadn’t decided,” Matt said instead, which stopped the reactive brain just as it was building up steam. Replaced the heat with something icy. Matt looked up and Foggy could see how his eyebrows drew down just over the top of his lenses.

“I didn’t hear anything definitive, so I wasn’t sure if it was worth mentioning.” The look on his face was earnest again, and begging Foggy to believe him.

“I promise, Foggy. Nothing happened, no one’s saying anything about Fisk, no one’s even talking about the lawsuit. It wasn’t useful, and I didn’t think it mattered.” His voice had gone softer, cooler, and there was a plea in it. And then he took his glasses off.

And when he put it that way, Foggy was more than inclined to listen. The ice melted.

He’d always been fascinated by Matt’s eyes, and he’d always felt a little shitty about it.

It had taken almost the whole first semester for Matt to take his glasses off around Foggy, and he had instantly been struck by how much they changed his face. Big and more expressive than he would have guessed. They softened everything about Matt, even now. Made it clearer he wasn’t lying.

And after that first semester, Matt had rarely worn his glasses when it was just the two of them. Foggy was honored and he grew used to them, but the fascination remained. It wasn’t some kind of perverse curiosity, Foggy just knew that he was one of the few people in the world who Matt was comfortable enough with.

Pride.

Foggy sighed. By now, his more rational brain had kicked in.

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.” Matt’s face eased. "And I’m not mad at you, you know.” An eyebrow lifted. “It’s just a reflex! You kept a lot of things from me for a long time, and I’m really sorry, I wish it wasn’t true, but that’s going to be my first assumption for a while.”

Matt’s resulting expression was harder to read, and he didn’t give Foggy a lot of time before he ducked his head.

“I’m sorry, Foggy. You never deserved that.”

“Matty, I know.” He walked over to put a hand on his shoulder because he couldn’t stand a dejected Matt Murdock. He waited until Matt lifted his head to continue. “I know, and I’ve accepted your apology and I know you’re trying.”

“I really think Daredevil is the best way for us to get information at this point. I can track people as Daredevil. And I want to find out if there’s something more going on with this case, even if it can’t help us get evidence. I don’t want to let Fisk’s poison fester.”

Foggy nodded, turning the idea over. It made sense.

“I want you to talk to Brett, too. Have him watch things from his point of view,” Foggy said. “He might be able to spot something. I can ask him about documents, or let him know records are missing.”

Matt didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. Foggy felt better about everything, all of a sudden.

“Do I have your blessing to connect Daredevil to the firm again?” Matt asked, only a little annoyed.

Foggy hadn’t quite thought of it that way yet, and a spike of anxiety flashed through him. He shook it off.

“Yes, consider yourself blessed. I don’t need to tell you to be careful, right?”

Matt smiled. “I’ll get started tonight. Until then do you want to go over the parts of the case that aren’t in contention?”

“How did you know?” Foggy asked as they sat down across from each other. Matt pushed his glasses and cane to the edge of his desk and grinned.

Matt crouched on the roof, and he could feel the heat of the fire burning in the alley below him. He smelled the sickness and lack of hygiene from the people gathered. But he also heard the quiet, muttered conversations.

Chances were good that some of the people weren’t really homeless. He detected faint whiffs of expensive cologne, and the speech patterns were just a little too neat. Plus, he’d stumbled across this particular camp before, and there were some new voices that were trying just a little too hard to fit in.

“You heard anything from the boss?” one voice croaked.

“About what?” another grumbled.

“’Bout the job.”

“What about it?” 

“Whether it got done?”

“I assume so. We’d hear about it otherwise. Somebody’d be paying for it.”

Matt knew it was anything they could be talking about. Petty crime lords often used these people to carry out petty crime. But something in his gut told him to stick around.

He’d crouched on his favorite vantage point for a solid half hour before he’d heard these two talking about files, the library and the grace of public, government buildings that had to accommodate all citizens.

But they were taking their sweet time elaborating on that, and they rambled on about how nice the library was.

“It was easier than I thought it’d be, y’know?”

“Don’t know why, it’s all publicly accessible.”

“Hey, I ain’t complaining. Money’s too good for that.” Matt heard the shuffling and whisper of a stack of dollar bills. His nose told him the majority were counterfeits.

He sighed and got to his feet. He’d wasted too much time here already. It was possible he’d found the people who removed the documents, but there wasn’t enough to warrant an appearance from the devil, and they weren’t important enough to know why or who they’d gotten them for.

“You know I did some stuff like this before. Years ago. And, you know, they’ve changed the guy we’re supposed to give it to.”

“So?”

“Well it was always the same guy before. Tall, lanky, neat, worked close with the bosses. Dark hair, probly educated. He was always there with most o’ the things.”

Matt felt his heartbeat speed up and he paused. He needed just a little more to turn familiarity into confirmation.

“Don’t know why you care.”

“Just observin’. He was there all the time, and I thought big bosses kept people around.”

“Maybe he moved.”

“Dunno those people get to do that. Always worked uptown, near Fisk as possible. Heard Fisk ordered this, too.”

Matt grinned and turned back toward the edge of the building. There was excitement building in his chest, and he mapped a route in his head to Fisk’s old stomping grounds to poke around.

This seemed possible and Matt couldn’t wait to be able to tell Foggy about this little scrap of hope. 

“Hey, Hornhead.”

Matt whirled around, toward the new voice. His skin tingled and he could still smell the whiskey all over her. He realized now he’d noticed her approach, but he hadn’t paid attention with the excitement from the alley.

“Miss Jones. I’m a little busy.” Not that it really mattered anymore. The guy below didn’t seem to have any more specific information to offer.

“I think you’re going to want to hear this,” Jessica replied, shrugging and shifting her weight to her back leg. There was a file in her hand and she flipped it open and shut.

Matt turned to face her, frowning.

“I found some of your documents, and a trail I think leads to more of them.” He listened to the flicker of the paper inside the file. It was heavy, and there were a lot of them. Matt considered asking how she’d done it, but he knew better.

“I thought you didn’t want to show up on Fisk’s radar,” he said instead.

Jessica stopped shuffling the file and he got the impression she glared at him. It was something about her stance. “As you pointed out, I’m on most of New York’s radar. But it’s also been a while since I got to dig into a good trove of archives.”

Under the monotone there was a real thread of interest, of passion. He’d been hoping for that when he left the research on her desk. Something in Matt warmed a little, knowing that he hadn’t misread her from their short but intense work together.

He weighed his next response.

They needed her to keep helping them, but he wasn’t sure her opinion of teamwork had changed since Midland Circle.

“Is that mine?” he asked, pointing to the folder.

Jessica was silent for a moment, but he couldn’t get a read from her.

Finally, she shifted on her feet again and she tucked the file to her side. “Are you trying to tell me I should make an appointment with your office?”

Without any thought, Matt beamed. He heard Jessica sigh.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re accepting Nelson and Murdock as clients?” he asked.

“I’m going to make an appointment. I just wanted to keep you from doing something stupid again tonight. You looked like you were going to jump off that rooftop.”

Matt grinned again, and it felt sharp. There was a rush of fierce triumph coursing through his veins and he lowered his head so Jess could really only see his teeth.

“Well that’s not exactly out of the question,” he said. Then he hopped onto the ledge and flipped off.

The spike of Jessica’s heartbeat and the sound of her breath catching in her throat made everything that much better. Matt didn’t even mind that he was going to pay for that when she came in.

For now, he really felt like running across rooftops.

“What are you asking me, Foggy? You don’t think the NYPD can handle this?”

“Well, seeing as how Fisk escaped NYPD custody once and managed to trick the officials at a prison, and manipulate the system from within, I can’t say I have overwhelming confidence,” Foggy replied. His tone was sharper than it probably should have been, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“And we’ve learned,” Brett replied, disdain heavy. “I don’t like you insinuating that these folks can’t do their jobs.”

Foggy sighed. “It’s not that. It’s that Fisk is a goddamn crime lord, Brett, and he has a way of turning every situation into something that benefits him. Just put more eyes on him, please? You’ve heard about the Bulletin lawsuit, right?” He waited for Brett’s affirmative hum. “We can’t figure out what else he’s doing or what he’s planning, so we’re trying to cover our bases. Take some of the pressure off.”

Brett was silent for a long moment, and Foggy was ready to jump in with more arguments. He glanced at the list sitting at his elbow.

“Okay, I hear what you’re saying,” Brett said. “I’m not sure how much better guarded Fisk could be, but I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks, Brett. We’re all on the same side here, you know.”

“Have a good night, Foggy.”

The line went silent and Foggy sat back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. It was good. It was taking care of things that needed taking care of, and setting actions in motion. He felt the restless anxiety in his chest still and he closed his eyes.

He wasn’t dumb enough to think it would be over yet, but having breathing space — no matter how small — was nice. Matt was out making more progress for them, and Foggy was surprised to realize he was optimistic about it.

Matt had seemed convinced, and Foggy found he was willing to trust him. He tried not to think about how that felt strange to him.

Instead, he focused on how great it was to be fighting for the same thing again, and reminded himself that they were coming back together. It was going to take time, but he was more than willing to invest it.

The sound of the window sticking as it opened pulled Foggy’s eyes down to see a grinning Daredevil crawling inside.

Foggy couldn’t even really sigh because Matt looked so happy, but he couldn’t resist at least saying, “The window that faces the street?”

“It’s past midnight, Fogs. There’s no one around. Promise.” Matt didn’t waste any time pulling his black mask off, and the face underneath was just as happy as the grin.

Though now, Foggy could see excitement shining in Matt’s eyes, and there was a general flush of adrenaline and accomplishment in his face. He looked younger with his hair sticking up in every direction and his big eyes, and Foggy needed a second to regroup and come up with something to say. 

“I take it the exploratory mission went well,” he observed.

Matt crossed to his desk and sat on the edge, holding the mask in his hands. His smile dimmed, just in that it took on a different meaning. It was less “I just got into law school” and more “things are looking up and I’m pleasantly surprised.”

The feeling in Foggy’s chest matched it. “Tell me about it,” he prompted, not just as a law partner, warmer than that.

“Fisk is definitely behind the documents,” he started. “I heard some people talking about taking them out and they mentioned Fisk by name. But I also think I know how to find the anonymous source Karen quoted.”

Now Foggy was feeling some of that excitement Matt had come in with. He leaned over his desk, toward him. “No shit?”

Matt brightened. “I need more information, but I know where to start looking.”

“Holy — Matt that’s amazing,” Foggy breathed. He couldn’t stay sitting, so he moved around his desk.

“I know, but there’s more,” Matt told him. The smile shifted again to one that said he was satisfied with himself. “Jessica Jones flagged me down and she said she’d taken a look at the information I left with her.”

Foggy felt his hopes rising.

“She dug around and she found copies of some of the documents, and she said she wants to help get the rest together.”

“You’re kidding.”

Matt shook his head, and suddenly Foggy’s elation was too much to contain.

He threw his arms skyward and whooped, and then he fell into helpless laughter. Matt had another blinding smile on his face, and Foggy grabbed his wrists and pulled him to his feet. Soon enough, Matt’s laughter joined his.

“Matthew Murdock, I could kiss you,” Foggy declared, giddy, head buzzing, heart so lifted it was hovering over his head.

It was impossible to miss the flicker of surprise on Matt’s bare face, and a different expression Foggy didn’t recognize. He stepped away, and laughed again to cover up any awkwardness Matt’s super senses might pick up. The giddy feeling filling his chest like fizz hadn’t gone away.

“Could, Murdock, could. Not synonymous with going to,” he admonished lightly. “Because seriously Matt, this is incredible. And exactly what we needed.”

Matt shook himself a little and another smile spread across his face, like nothing had happened and Foggy blessed his body for keeping its cool.

It had been a long time since he imagined kissing Matt, and even then, it had been one of those thoughts that just flickered through his head, usually when he was drunk. The thought that Matt might think he meant it this time wasn’t one he wanted to entertain.

He was just that excited about making a breakthrough.

“Does this call for a celebratory trip to Josie’s?” Matt’s smile returned, and he seemed to have moved on.

“Y’know,” Foggy slung his arm over Matt’s shoulder and beamed when Matt returned the gesture. “It just might.”

Matt grinned and reached into a desk drawer to pull out a pair of sunglasses. “Then let us go gather our rosebuds.” He stood up, and Foggy followed to keep his arm around Matt.

He smiled at the side of his face, and basked in how right it all felt. To be on the top of the world again with Matt by his side.

“Carpe diem!” Foggy crowed as they moved in tandem to the door.


	5. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun is had with public records, Jessica Jones comes out of solitude and everyone learns you should have a bowling ball if you want to knock down a kingpin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may not believe it but finding public records really is that exciting.

The first thing Jess did when she showed up was punch Matt in the arm.

It wasn’t full strength, but he could tell it was going to bruise. And even though he winced, Matt followed it up with a grin and a fake protest. He’d known it would happen, but her showing up was still a surprise.

And Foggy. Foggy had lit up like a bonfire when Jess appeared in the office with her folder of papers. His relief was a physical, palpable thing and Matt would never be upset about that.

He’d gone back to cracking jokes and believing in the case, and there was a low-key excitement vibrating through him when he took the folder Jess offered him. His heart was hammering happily and dopamine and serotonin flooded through his veins.

Matt would have let her punch him dozens of times if that was the end result.

“Jess, you get to eat free at the restaurant downstairs. Forever. I’ll pass it on to my family,” Foggy said while he skimmed through the contents. Matt heard him lift his head and Jess’s heartbeat lifted momentarily at whatever look was on Foggy’s face.

She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and Matt heard how her covered shoulders dragged against her hair as they lifted just a little. The move also released the smell of old leather and a subdued floral shampoo.

“Hey, you’re the ones paying me for this, it’s not like I’m just doing you a favor,” she said. “And don’t get too excited yet, there’s more where that came from.”

Foggy sighed happily.

“What else?” Matt asked. Karen had said she’d seen contracts-of-sorts that the associates of the other major crime organizations had signed. They covered the associates’ territory in Hell’s Kitchen and the commission they owed Fisk, and that’s what Jess had said she’d been able to find.

“Hard to say what they are at this point. Deeds, property records, any kind of personal notes, security footage, records of what he did in public places. I know where to find public records, and I got a lead on where to look for the private ones. It’s all out there.”

“Big Brother is always watching, huh?”

The smell of Karen, stressed but put together with lotion and clean clothes and sweet-smelling hair products, preceded her footsteps and the gentle swish of her dress by fractions of a second. Matt smiled at the sound of her voice. It had been tight and frayed over the last few days, and it was nice to hear it even and solid again.

“All the better for us,” Foggy reminded her. “We can build a case. We can prove you weren’t lying when you wrote about how Fisk built up his empire.”

The pocket of happiness in Matt’s chest grew at Foggy’s joy. His plan to bait Jess had worked exactly the way he’d hoped and now the frustration was paying off.

“How are you going to start it?” Karen asked.

“With the argument that your stories were based on public information and that your stories represented the documents fully, fairly and accurately,” Matt said.

The discussion to add fair-report to the defense had been a long back-and-forth between him and Foggy, debating the pros and cons like they always had. Matt forgot sometimes how much fun being a lawyer could be.

And really, Matt was just as excited about this development as Foggy was.

“And that could work?” Karen asked.

“The odds are still against us, but yes that could work. Especially with a public interest angle, that gives us a chance to remind the jury that Fisk sucks. Or introduce them to the idea as the case may be,” Foggy said.

“What do you need from me?” Jess asked.

“I’m glad you asked!” Foggy declared, sweeping around to face her. Jess didn’t react at all to the sheer light of Foggy. Foggy didn’t react to her non-reaction either.

“We’re going to comb through Karen’s stories again to pick out the public interest elements and note what we want documentation of. You’ll go get that aspect. And there are some references to documents. We’ll want those, too,” Foggy said.

Jess crossed her arms, Matt heard the shift of leather rubbing against itself, and her heart beat steady. “What else?” She pointed the words at Matt.

“Just the documents for now. You probably don’t want a piece of the Daredevil stuff.”

“You’re right.”

Matt nodded. “That’s settled then. Here, I’ll walk you out.”

Jess stepped back and let Matt take her arm. Karen waved and Foggy said, “It was nice to see you, Miss Jones. Thank you.”

“Subtle, Murdock,” she commented when they made it to the stairwell.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since I came back, and we worked closely together. It’s not that unusual I’d want some time alone with you,” Matt replied.

He wasn’t worried about Foggy or Karen being suspicious, and part of him hated that. Even as he denied that he was doing something they should be suspicious of. It was just information-gathering for something they didn’t, and shouldn’t, know about.

Matt knew what he was doing, and if anything came out of it, he promised himself that he’d tell them right away.

It didn’t make him feel much better.

“So, what do you need?” Jess asked when they made it outside. She drifted a step away and Matt imagined she looked as unimpressed as she was trying to sound. Betrayed by the hint of interest in her voice.

“I’m trying to find some people, and I might need your help to do it. I need it as soon as possible and I need to do it without the other two knowing.”

Jess was silent, and Matt had no way of telling what she was doing.

“Who and why?”

“Her name is Vanessa Mariana, and I just need to keep track of her right now. I made a deal with Fisk.”

“I’m not helping you beat the shit out of anyone.”

“I’m not going to hurt her. Even if Fisk does break the deal, I’m not laying a hand on her.”

Fisk had clearly found a loophole in their bargain. By suing the Bulletin, he wasn’t technically going after Karen. And even if Fisk had known Ellison would hire him and Foggy, he wasn’t going after Foggy either.

He’d just figured out a way to threaten them all anyway.

“How close will I be getting to Fisk?”

Matt sighed. “You’d be standing right next to him. But I have other people to track down, and Vanessa’s going to take a lot of resources. 

“And you need me so you can keep it a secret.”

“It won’t do them any good to know. And I have to work through this case, while also tracking some other people down,” he tried to explain. Then he remembered what had happened last time he asked her for a favor.

“I’m going to look for her eventually, this is just the most efficient way that keeps me from being stretched too thin.”

Jess sighed after a quick intake of breath, and Matt heard a series of shifting sounds that at least denoted her adjusting her body language. He guessed she was looking for something in his face to tell her more.

“I thought you worked alone.”

Matt smiled. “I’ve learned that I can’t always. If you don’t want to get more involved, I’ll find her eventually. I just thought I could use some help this time.”

Jess was silent again, and it felt longer this time. “Alright.”

There was a glower in her voice, but also a grudging-but-genuine acceptance.

As soon as Matt and Jessica disappeared, Karen turned to Foggy and her eyes were bright. It was the kind of expression that told him he wasn’t going to like what she said next.

“What am I doing to help?” Karen asked. There was something in her tone of voice, like she was gearing up for an argument. “I assume I’m not allowed to look at the stories?”

Foggy hesitated, drummed his fingers on his thigh.

“No,” Foggy said. “Uh–”

“So, I’ll help Jessica track down the documents when she goes looking.” Her voice was definitive, it was the one that couldn’t be argued with. “I know what to look for anyway, so I could help point things out. It’s the most effective way for me to contribute to this case.”

Foggy came close to sighing in relief.

“Yeah, yeah Karen that sounds good. Take it up with her.” The more he thought about it, the more on board he got.

Foggy had felt bad that Karen hadn’t had anything to do for so long, and this was _safe_. Or not going-after-Fisk levels of dangerous, at least.

He was tired of his friends risking their lives for the greater good, but he also wanted every piece of evidence that could bury this libel suit ten feet under.

Foggy had finally gotten around to reading the case word-for-word, and it was complete bullshit built for good lawyers to appeal to a jury, and Foggy was under no impression that Fisk’s lawyers were good at what they did. And he knew Fisk could manipulate juries.

Karen smiled, sharp, and determination flashed in her eyes. Foggy had a flash of remembering how much he loved her.

“I think I still have her phone number somewhere,” Foggy said. Karen shook her head and sat down at her desk, rolling a pen between her fingers.

“I think that’s a meeting that should happen in person,” she said. “I’m going to read some of my old writing and come up with documents to get.”

“Good idea,” he said absently. For his part, Foggy was also excited to dive into the information he had in front of him.

They’d been kept by someone whose name Foggy didn’t recognize, and he wondered vaguely what had happened to them after the collapse of Fisk’s empire and if they’d been around to see it rise again. Somehow, he doubted it.

But the records were good. Eight simple documents that outlined how each crime lord in the neighborhood would pay Fisk to maintain a level of autonomy over their operations. Some of the language in them told Foggy there was another set of documents that stated Fisk would have final say in any major actions.

These weren’t exactly legal contracts. Foggy could see how Fisk’s lawyers would try to argue that they hadn’t been drafted by lawyers. But they had all the elements of a basic legal contract, and Foggy felt good enough about his contract law knowledge to argue they were official agreements, and to inform the jury that it signaled a level of organizing, and one that put Fisk on top.

If the other documents were anything like this, Foggy finally felt good about the case.

Tracking people down when all he knew about them was what they looked like and what they used to do was a big ask. 

So, Matt lurked near Fisk’s old stomping grounds, listening for signs of covert activity and links to Fisk.

He remembered this area well, and he figured he’d run into something going on.

Odds were good the source had run soon after giving Karen the documents, otherwise Fisk would have gotten to them. And with a new fervor over the papers, it was possible it would stir something in the area. Matt just had to pay attention.

For example, people were talking about Fisk again. In lowered tones and only in snippets, but he heard his name scattered over the streets, and it had taken a different tone than it had only a few weeks ago. No more cursing, now there was something more like fear again.

And that felt like a good enough starting point.

Daredevil dropped into an alley and waited a few moments before he lunged out, grabbed a passerby and pressed him up against the wall of the alley within a few seconds. He held the man against the wall with a hand over his mouth, and leaned in close so he didn’t have to speak loudly.

It wasn’t quite late enough for Daredevil to be operating without possible witnesses.

“What do you know about Fisk?”

The guy got somehow even more desperate and grabbed ineffectually at Daredevil’s wrists. “Nothing, man. Nothing. Not a thing,” he gasped.

Lie. 

Daredevil pressed him harder into the wall. “That’s not what I heard. Who else around here used to work for Fisk?” In fact, this guy used to be a runner, too. Just like the men from last night.

The man’s heartbeat was a scattered mess as he gasped. Daredevil snarled.

“Everyone! Everyone here did work for him at some point. But we haven’t heard anything for months,” the man protested. It was closer to the truth. At least his heartbeat didn’t stutter, but Matt knew how to hide the truth in language.

“I’m going to need names and specifics,” Daredevil growled.

The man whimpered. “I don’t know everyone who did anything. You just recognize faces, you know? And it ain’t like they ever really told us what we were doing for ‘em.”

“I don’t need personal introductions. Tell me who the runners handed things off to. I know all the information went to one person before it moved up the chain.” He tightened his fingers in the man’s shirt.

Matt didn’t want to get violent. This man was the lowest rung in whichever part of Fisk’s last empire he’d been connected. He wasn’t the problem, and it was likely that nearly anyone on the street in this area could give him the same information.

The man’s heartbeat leapt. “Oh, him? Yeah, yeah, he was the guy for a few months. Disappeared then. Round the time Fisk went raving.”

Daredevil nodded, eased his grip on the man’s shirt.

“Man, I don’t know. He was tall and stringy, never seemed to really like what he was doin’. I think he used to work with one o’ the places Fisk took over. Never got his name.”

“Did he go by a title? Or operate from a specific drop-off?”

“Nah, just the man we were supposed to see. He was like a secretary for all the groups or somethin. Location changed all the time, though.” The man said. The tension slowly eased from his body and his tone was less panicked.

Then something shifted and his heart pounded just a little faster. It carried just enough adrenaline to make the man’s voice shake. “Y’know, you aren’t the first person to ask me about him, either. Had people askin’ questions down here the other day. I heard people talking about Fisk, too…”

Daredevil stepped back, just a few inches, to take that in. It was enough for the man to get brave and swing for his face. Daredevil ducked, grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted his arm around to his back.

The man yelped as Daredevil shoved him into the brick wall, and then he shouted just a little louder. But it was loud enough to catch the attention of people passing by the alley, and they’d decided to investigate.

Daredevil cursed and pushed the man away from him. Before he could right himself, Daredevil was on a fire escape on the corner, leaning into the wall and listening to the two good Samaritans asking if the man was okay or if they could do something to help him.

But there was a buzz about the Devil going through the community and Matt made his way back toward the roof, fighting the sense of frustration rising in his chest.

For a second it had seemed like he was getting somewhere. He cursed again.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one looking for the leak, but he hadn’t expected to be beaten to the punch. It was clear this community hadn’t recovered from working with Fisk the first time, any probing from his team was going to chill the information getting out. Especially to Daredevil.

Matt got to his feet.

He wouldn’t be able to get any more information from the people here. Not tonight anyway. But that didn’t mean he was out of options, and now there was a timer.

In fact, he had to drop by Fisk’s old associates anyway. There was no reason he couldn’t dig for information from some of their staff while he was at it.

Foggy was kicking himself for not approaching Jessica sooner. From what Matt had told him, she’d just been in her apartment all this time with her superpower for uncovering information. And now they’d tapped her in, she was delivering.

Literally.

In the time it had taken Foggy and Matt to work a strategy with the basic contracts, Jess had dug up the other set and sent them to the office with a Karen who was paired with her now and had told them to expect more soon.

It felt so good to finally be _doing something_.

Foggy was relaxed for the first time because he could see it now, and he’d sent Matt off cheerfully because tonight wasn’t going to be fruitless digging. The idea of sleep was so good he could cry.

It wasn’t going to be like that forever, and it was going to get harder, but right now, all he had to do was match story details with documents.

Matt zeroed in on the smell of cigarettes before he focused on their voices. He actually couldn’t believe they were talking openly either.

Of all the gangster staffs he’d intimidated tonight, these two left something to be desired.

It didn’t matter what they were saying, he recognized the two from previous patrols. They were low-level cogs in the bigger crime machine, but they’d been around for a long time and they both had certain responsibilities.

The most rational part of his brain told him to wait until one of them went inside. The cigarettes were burning at different rates, after all. But they were around the side of the building, in shadow, away from sightlines, outside the range of cameras.

His impatience won.

Before he gave them a chance to think, Daredevil smashed his elbow into one man’s temple, sending him into a crumpled, unconscious heap. The other man he punched once to knock his breath out, and then a swift kick to the back of his legs took him to his knees.

“Fuck, man! We aren’t doing anything!”

“I need you to tell me who was responsible for handling the paperwork and correspondence between the gangs when Fisk first built his empire in the Kitchen,” he growled. “It was one guy. All of the runners took it to him and he sent it up the chain. Who was he?”

“I wasn’t around then!”

Daredevil punched him in the gut, and held him upright with a hand on his shoulder. “I recognize you. You worked primarily for one of Fisk’s proxies. You would have come into contact with him when Fisk was striking deals with your boss.”

Matt could hear the man’s throat work as he swallowed hard, and smell the sweat rising up to the surface of his skin. It tasted like adrenaline and fear. His heartbeat fluttered as he debated lying.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

The guy pushed back against the hand holding him up. “What’s in it for me?”

“You don’t end up like him,” he gestured sharply at the other guy. “Answer the question.”

“Uh, uh,” the man gasped. Daredevil increased his grip on his shoulder. “Ah, Edmund Delaney. Tall guy, kinda scruffy, got dragged into all this and was smart enough just to go along. For a while anyway. He disappeared. Fisk even sent us out looking for him, but it didn’t work.”

His heartbeat said he was telling the truth.

“Don’t know why they think they’re going to find him this time. That guy’s long gone by now.”

“Why are they looking for him?”

“Fuck if I know, man. They’re tracking him down for leaking something, I think.”

Daredevil nodded and, without a word, he disappeared, too.

After a full night of sleep, Foggy felt benevolent enough to splurge on breakfast for the team.

And when he showed up, he was surprised to find Jessica and Matt already there, discussing something very intently.

Matt went silent when Foggy assumed he’d been noticed, which sparked a surprising pang of disappointment.

Across from Matt, Jessica arched an eyebrow and looked between them with an undecipherable expression on her face.

“No need to stop on my behalf,” Foggy joked weakly. For once, humor didn’t do much to scrape the feeling away. A more familiar anger flared up alongside it. He pushed it all to the back of his mind. “I have breakfast.”

“Foggy–”

“It’s fine. If you need to talk about private things, I can take a walk around the block.”

Matt’s jaw tightened and his eyebrows nudged together. His mouth worked like he was considering and discarding possible responses.

Then his face eased and he apparently settled on something. “I’m not trying to hide anything. This concerns you, too. Come on,” he jerked his head for Foggy to come closer.

From where she was standing, Jessica was still watching them, and Foggy got the impression she was coming to conclusions.

But for his part, Foggy felt that little piece of him, the piece that had been prepared to rear up and hold this against Matt, retreat to its corner. He walked farther into the office.

Matt smiled at him, and then he seemed to register the bag and the smile grew. Foggy couldn’t quite return it, but the sight did warm his chest, and he handed it over.

“What are you talking about then?” he asked as he watched Matt root for his favorite kind of bagel.

“The anonymous source. I got a name,” Matt said. “I’m just coordinating with Jessica how we can track him down without making too much noise.”

He passed the bag back, and Foggy was too stunned to react, so Jessica grabbed it instead. He hadn’t been sure what kind of bagel to get, so he hoped she appreciated the options. Meanwhile, a bubble of emotion that felt a lot like hope was rising.

“I–you–really? You really did it?” Foggy asked. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded faraway and muted with shock and the sheer effort he was spending to keep it controlled. It was kind of hard to believe how happy he was. They were in the middle of a frustratingly big case and, despite everything, Fisk was involved in every aspect of it.

And yet.

Foggy was looking at Matt’s smug, glowing face and he felt the way he always did when he saw Matt and knew it was them against the world.

He didn’t need to, but Foggy looked at Jessica for confirmation. She looked less affected, but she did nod at him.

“I can’t believe you. How much violence did it take?” Foggy wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that, but he did want to know everything about how Matt had pulled this off.

“Not as much as you’re imagining. It was just about leaning on the right people.”

“So what’s left?” Foggy asked. The bag had come back to him, and he was aware enough to register it this time.

“We just have to find him, convince him to testify. That’s what Jess and I were talking about.”

Foggy followed, but there was a nagging voice telling him something was going on. “Why?”

“Murdock doesn’t want any of Fisk’s people to know you’re closing in. He thinks they’re following the same trail, and a guy in a black mask is too conspicuous.”

Foggy felt his heart beat just a little harder, but it made sense. Of course they’d want to be as quiet as possible.

“So I can give you where you’re likely to find him, but I’ve heard mixed reports about whether he’ll be there,” Matt directed the last part back to Jessica.

“And you suggest I what, stake out his building until I see him?” she asked.

“That, or you just dig into his rental report.”

Foggy watched them and absorbed the strategizing, turning the image over in his head.

It wasn’t exactly new. Matt wasn’t a big “plan” guy, but Foggy had been in Jessica’s position countless times, going through details and watching how Matt put them in place. There was something different about this.

Matt was intent and focused as he listened to Jessica, and matter-of-fact when he offered his own point of view. He looked exactly like he did when he and Foggy discussed approaches to cases.

But he was talking about Daredevil.

And it was so surreal that Foggy forgot about his bagel again.

Matt was lit up and passionate as he and Jessica discussed the best, most low-key way to find the source. Even the way Matt argued for his point of view sounded a lot like the voice he used to argue with Foggy over precedent and the framing of an argument.

Foggy observed all of it from a distance, fascinated by this display of how vigilantes apparently worked sometimes.

“So, we’re good? It’s going good?” he asked when Jessica left, with a promise to update Matt tonight on the location of Edmund Delaney.

Matt nodded, and he looked relieved. “It really is. Documents and a quoted source on the witness stand? The jury isn’t going to know what hit them.”

Foggy checked the clock and decided it was probably too early to go celebrate at Josie’s, and Matt was going to be busy tonight.

“Celebratory lunch later?” he proposed. Matt grinned at him.

“This was too easy.”

Matt agreed, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. They needed Delaney too much. And if he did this right, he thought he could make it not matter.

“Hey, Hornhead, are you listening to me?”

“Well I was trying to listen for any heartbeats around us, Miss Jones, but yes your voice was cutting in, too.”

She smacked him, which Matt admitted he probably deserved.

“I don’t like this. Why the hell is he still here?”

From what Matt could tell, Delaney was sitting in his apartment, on his computer, alternating between typing furiously and scrolling. But there was no sign of a threat.

They were several blocks off the neighborhood Matt had first been told to check, but he was still near Hell’s Kitchen, living on the very edge of where it started, and his rental record suggested he’d never left.

Maybe ever. It had taken Matt and Jess more than an hour and almost three false-positives to find him because he’d clearly understood the danger he was in. Matt was even more convinced he was the right person because he had a knack for leading paper trails in multiple, contradictory directions.

And then to make sure they were right Jess had insisted they surveil him for another two hours.

“I don’t know, but that tells me he wasn’t that important to Fisk.” He hadn’t heard anything else about Fisk, other than his people were looking for someone who’d leaked information. But there were no mentions of the source’s name or that they’d found him. And this was Fisk. If they had that information, there would be no stopping them.

The total silence around the building told Matt they’d gotten here first.

“I’m going in. Are you staying here?”

“No, Page and I are going after some more documents she thinks will be important.”

Matt wasn’t sure what he thought of Jess and Karen spending time together, but they both seemed happy with the arrangement and it was accomplishing what they needed so he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you have an update then.”

She paused for a second, but nothing in her body gave her away. Her heartbeat was steady as ever, her muscles played their normal strange, enhanced notes. Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone so silent. He couldn’t read her at all when she didn’t want him to.

“Yeah. See you around.”

And with that, he made his way to Delaney’s apartment. He’d figured out the best path during their surveillance, the one least likely to be seen by any onlookers and got him right to Delaney’s number. 

The apartment seemed like any other you’d find in Hell’s Kitchen, and Matt couldn’t pick up on a trace of anyone who didn’t belong here. Which seemed to be Delaney himself.

Now wasn’t the time to be relieved, though.

He knocked on the window, and listened to how the man’s heartbeat skyrocketed. The man started so violently he ended up throwing his book to the side in his haste to get to his feet.

“Good evening, Mr. Delaney,” Matt said when he’d worked the window open. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He held his hands up.

“S-so what then? I do know who you are.” He sounded young, maybe around Matt and Foggy’s ages. For a while Matt had wondered if they’d found the right person, if this Delaney could have possibly been involved in anything close to Fisk. But even though his heartbeat was shaky, and his voice was unsteady, the man wasn’t fidgeting or giving any indication that he might run.

“Why don’t you sit down? There’s a lot to talk about.”

Foggy knew they were making enough progress for him to leave the case alone for tonight, but he was on a roll and he didn’t want to break it.

By now, he’d matched up the contracts and he’d figured out every time Karen had written about Fisk operating a mini-empire. Karen had also sent him pictures of property records that tied into the issue of Fisk’s finances.

Right after that, he’d gotten a picture of her and Jessica at dinner.

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do anyway. Matt was out getting them a witness, Karen and Jessica were apparently bonding, and Foggy was left watching the shop while Theo went to his night class.

He hadn’t planned on spending his night like this, but he’d been able to bring all of the important files down to the counter, so it worked out to being mostly the same.

Theo had told Foggy he was taking some classes here and there, and Foggy was proud of him getting a business degree. Supported it. Encouraged it. It was their parents’ idea for Foggy to close up.

They only needed him to do it once or twice a week, and in the future, he planned to not be doing it alone.

But for now, it was okay because he had exciting work to do on the side. 

As he put the pieces of the case together, the case he and Matt had discussed at length, Foggy could see a scenario where a jury sided with them.

The evidence spelled out the story Karen had told in the Bulletin, and in the context of what was already on Fisk’s record, it was clear that the public had needed to read it. With just a little more information about the shady dealings, and the words of someone to back them up, they were golden.

So yeah, he could look after the shop and be a lawyer at the same time.

“What do you want from me then?” Delaney asked when Matt finished explaining his search for information and the case being built by a little law office on the other side of Hell’s Kitchen. The one with the lawyers who’d taken Fisk down the first time, and the journalist he’d fed information to.

That piece of information had taken him by surprise.

“The lawyers would like you to go on the stand, and I’ve taken it upon myself to ask.”

Delaney’s heartbeat ratcheted up. He clutched the arms of his chair and the muscles in his back tightened as he sat forward. “No. No, absolutely not. I can’t. In fact, I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

“What are you waiting for?” Matt readied himself to grab him if he tried to go without answering the question.

“I’m finally leaving. Last time I actually let myself think he’d stay in prison and I’m not making that mistake again. He gets what he wants, always, and if what you’re saying is true about them suing and stealing the original documents, it’s only a matter of time until they’re after me.”

As Delaney talked, his voice got faster and more frayed, and Matt knew he needed to draw it back under control.

“I’m not going to leave you out in the open,” he said. “There’s somewhere you can stay, off the grid. No one will know.”

“They don’t have to know where I live to kill me,” Delaney snapped. He finally pushed himself to his feet and paced over to the window. “Sorry but I already did my part back when I gave up those papers.”

Matt got to his feet, and repressed the growl that built in his chest. “Your part isn’t over yet.”

“It is. I’m not going on the stand against him. I’m not risking rising to the top of his list. You know I know what he can do. So I’m getting out of the state.”

His tone was hard, strengthened by how deep the fear went through him. He’d made his decision and there wasn’t anything Matt could say to change his mind.

He clenched his jaw, readying another argument, but then something occurred to him. A cool calm settled over him. It wasn’t unlike the one that came down before court or a fight. It was the feeling of a window opening when a door had closed.

“What about a written statement? That way you’ll be long gone by the time the case gets to trial.”

Delaney hesitated. The hand that had been on the windowsill lifted and hovered in the air in front of him as he rotated slowly back toward Matt.

Matt listened closely to every indicator Delaney’s body could give, hardly daring to breathe. Jess and Karen may have been finding the documents they needed, but testimony was something else entirely.

“I don’t know.”

“The case doesn’t have a court date. If you’re leaving as soon as you say, you’ll be out of the state by the time it gets read in front of Fisk and a jury,” Matt explained. “Something caused you to give up those documents in the first place. You want Fisk to go down, too. Here’s another way you can help make that happen.”

The hand fell to his side, and Delaney had turned fully away from the window. He was biting his lip, but he was otherwise decided when he said, “Alright. I’ll do that last thing.”

“This is good, Foggy. It’s really good,” Matt said, popping one of his earbuds out as he listened to the notes Foggy had emailed him.

“I’m glad you think so, I worked hard on that,” Foggy replied, leaning back in his desk chair. It had been a long, but productive night, and he thought he deserved to preen.

Matt turned a shining face toward him, and Foggy’s pride only increased.

“And Delaney’s affidavit should fill in whatever holes we have,” Foggy added, looking at the folder with the written testimony with a worrying level of reverence.

Matt’s eyebrows twisted a little, followed by his mouth quirking to the side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get him to come on the stand. He wouldn’t even record a video. I know there’s a visual element that could add more weight.”

“What are you talking about?” Foggy asked. “Matt, this is amazing. Did you read it? He lays it all out. Besides, the two of us will provide the visual element. We’ll keep Ellison from getting into fights with lawyers or judges he’s covered before, and Karen will look like the epitome of innocence. And with all of this we’ll have the jury at our mercy.”

He’d been here before when he was reassuring Karen, but this time he felt it. Considering everything they’d gotten, Foggy could taste their victory, and the celebratory drinks they’d buy afterward.

And it must have registered to the super senses because Matt’s shine was coming back, and Foggy had never been able to pull that off so quickly.

Then Matt’s head twitched to the side and his focus pretty clearly shifted away from Foggy. He followed it over his shoulder to find a black-clad, scary Joan Jett standing in the doorway. Karen hovered just behind her.

“Busy?” she asked, though she came in anyway. They were both holding folders, but this time the spark of excitement Foggy felt was dimmer than before.

Matt didn’t look happy either, and Foggy figured he was reading the situation the same way Foggy was.

“I’m really not in the mood for bad news, just so you know,” Foggy said faintly, though he was aware it wouldn’t change anything. Karen shot him an apologetic look. 

“How bad is it?” Matt asked.

“I wouldn’t call it bad. Just weird,” Karen said carefully, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jessica.

“Not in a good way. I found these without having to dig.” Jessica said, opening one of the folders she’d brought in. Inside were photos of documents, instead of the papers themselves. Foggy swallowed his questions.

“It’s a folder with pictures of…billing information?” Foggy narrated. Karen nodded. “They’re from one of the warehouses down by the river that rents out its space.”

“I didn’t think I’d need them before. Fisk’s name isn’t on them and I didn’t see the connection to him until we found some of this other stuff about the fronts he ran. But when we went back, the physical copies were gone,” Jessica explained. “The same thing happened with these.” She laid out more photos, and Foggy described them to Matt, whose happy face had turned into a deep, concerned frown.

“Plus, some records we don’t have pictures of,” Karen said. Foggy thought he knew where this was going, but he wanted them to say it, and Karen seemed to read it in his face. “Someone’s taking these documents in waves, at the same time as us,” she said. “But it’s also weirder than that.”

Foggy sighed because of course it was.

She took one of the files she was holding and spread it out. Property records for one of the buildings Fisk tried to buy, a clear address, an agreement to abridged rent, a number connected to the bank he’d run. Still in his name and with attached bills that showed it was being used regularly.

“How did you get that?” Foggy asked.

“The records office,” Jessica replied.

“But that’s so obvious,” he said lamely.

“Exactly.”

Silence fell and they all looked at each other as they let the understanding sink in. Something was going on, and it weighed Foggy’s stomach down. He looked at Matt.

It didn’t provide much guidance, but there was something nice about having someone to look to.

Matt didn’t seem upset exactly, but he was obviously troubled, frowning down in the direction of the desk.

“They’re either messing with us on purpose, or they’re covering up something completely different.” Foggy figured he might as well give voice to the thing they were all thinking. 

The following silence told him he was right, and he sighed.

“So, we keep moving forward with what we have. We note the things we get that we shouldn’t, we’re careful about those, but we continue doing what we’re doing,” Foggy said. “Because it’s working.”

Matt turned his head to look at Foggy then. His eyebrows were lifted over the lenses of his glasses, and Foggy easily read the plain hope there, and he was taken aback, but he rallied. He had to give that hope something to attach to, after all.

“Jessica can you keep an eye on the documents? Which ones don’t disappear and what gets taken?” Foggy asked. It would only be a minor increase to what she was already doing. Just looking a little longer.

“Teaming up with him?” She gestured to Matt, and Foggy felt his stomach twist, hard.

The last time he’d specifically sent Matt out as Daredevil, it had taken months to get him back. A little voice in the back corner of his brain whispered that it could be more permanent this time. And surely Jessica could handle monitoring the documents by herself.

He wasn’t sure why it was so different from all the times Matt decided to go out in the mask, but his gut told him it was.

“No, it’s better to keep it low profile. She can handle it, unless she doesn’t want to do it alone,” Matt said. Everyone in the room stared at him and after a moment Matt seemed to realize it.

He’d tilted his head down, no doubt monitoring everyone’s vitals. “I’m no help with documents anyway,” he said, tapping the rim of his glasses.

Jessica rolled her eyes, but Foggy breathed out in relief.

“I’ll keep working with Jess,” Karen volunteered. “I know what we’re looking for and what we’re likely to find. I can be another pair of eyes.”

Before Foggy or Matt could react, Jessica nodded. “I’m cool with that.” She shrugged, and then she and Karen glanced at each other, and there was a shared determination that had Foggy thinking that their teaming up was probably the best idea Karen had ever had.

“So we keep chipping away at the case, like Foggy said, and we don’t let the intimidation work,” Karen said, turning to look at Matt and then to make eye contact with Foggy.

Foggy watched Matt, who’d lifted his head up and squared his shoulders. He even had the heroic set to his jaw. Jessica had also straightened up, and her eyes had brightened. For his part, Foggy still felt like his chest was just a little too tight, and this felt a little too much like a setback.

But he recognized it was the only real way to move forward.

“Alright. It sounds like a plan,” Matt said definitively.

While Karen and Foggy went back to working with the documents, Jess grabbed him and pulled him out into the hallway.

Everything about her screamed tension, from the way her shoulders bunched up toward her ears, to the stiffness of her neck and jaw. Matt tried to focus away from it, but he only ran back into Foggy’s restless fingers and Karen’s humming heartbeat.

The only benefit was that he couldn’t feel his own as clearly with all the racket.

“You found something?” Now was the time to focus, and be ready to show Fisk he could read between the lines too.

“She’s not hiding,” Jess said. She handed a folder to him. Inside were more property records, a deed, an agreement. Also actively occupied. Jess had printed them off so Matt could feel the text, and he frowned at what he read.

“You mean you didn’t have trouble getting these?” Matt clarified. All this time, Vanessa had been in an old warehouse Fisk had bought for her. It was in a quieter, almost-upscale location, and he wondered if Fisk had planned to live there with her once his empire was firmly in place.

“No. I just asked around for official documents. When I dropped her name, everyone seemed eager to help,” Jess said. 

Matt frowned deeper and kept reading. Jess was quiet, and Matt knew that she was just watching him, waiting to ask the question.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to know where she is at the moment,” Matt said, answering it first. He wanted to drop by, too, to check things out, see what kind of security she had around her.

Jess crossed her arms. “Let me guess, Fisk threatened Karen and Nelson, so you threatened Vanessa and you two have been playing chicken this whole time.”

Matt tensed a little, which was all she needed to know.

“Are you going to tell your friends?”

“They don’t need to know about this.”

Jess let the silence stretch out between them until Matt thought they were done.

“Why were you working alone when we met?” She asked. Matt didn’t answer, so after a few extended beats, she did it for him.

“I know what happened with the Castle case. And I know that it coincided with some ninja bullshit that was connected to that bullshit organization we all fought. And that Daredevil was tied up in it.” Her tone was probing, digging into the sore spot she’d found.

“What’s your point?”

“Keeping secrets doesn’t seem to work out for you.”

Matt took deep breaths and tried to focus himself on the feeling of his lungs expanding and contracting, on the way his exhales disturbed the air in front of his face.

“It’s not a secret. This is something that won’t concern them if I can help it,” Matt forced a steady voice out. “Foggy’s just coming around to accepting that I’m Daredevil in the abstract. I’m not involving him or Karen in the details of what I do.”

And there was the truth. Jess’s satisfied hum tipped him off that she picked up on it, too.

He sighed and thought he might as well clarify these thoughts that had been festering whenever he was alone, since the very beginning of all this. “This isn’t the stuff I want them to see. It’s bad enough that they know what I do and come under threat in the first place.”

Foggy particularly. Matt had always been so careful to hide how dangerous and violent and angry he was. When he’d found out about Daredevil, it had gone as well as Matt had always expected it would. So now Foggy knew, but he’d never had to confront the fact like Karen had.

Matt wanted to spare him the knowledge.

They didn’t need to know about the bargain he’d struck to protect them, covered in blood after almost committing murder and riding the most extreme adrenaline high he’d ever had. 

Jess seemed to get it because she only watched him in silence for a handful of seconds before she shifted back. “Fair enough.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around, Hornhead. And I’ll let you know what else I find.”

He listened to her go until her footsteps mixed in with the sounds of voices and plates clattering downstairs. Thoughts tumbled over in his head, but only one was loud enough to make a difference.

He texted Foggy to let him know he was going out, but he’d be back later.

****

This time, he didn’t have to threaten anyone.

It was Matt’s preferred method of investigation because it yielded the quickest results, but it wasn’t the best option in broad, mostly daylight.

Fortunately, the people he was interested in were talkative at their headquarters, and listening for hours stirred up information.

“So you have the shipment lined up?”

“Yeah, it should get in by the end of the month. Boss said ASAP and that was the fastest I could choose.”

The first voice tutted, but likely only because it was out of their control.

Unfortunately, the talking wasn’t always interesting. But Matt wasn’t trying to learn anything specific, just sate his suspicion.

He was moving quickly, revisiting each of the gang leaders who’d been working with Fisk before he’d come down.

And he wasn’t hearing _anything_, which didn’t seem possible. Obviously, Fisk wasn’t personally ordering the people in the alleys to take the documents, but he wasn’t going to let the bosses operate free of him. 

There was a level of organization they’d never had working alone, and there was something brewing, and it covered the whole neighborhood. Matt couldn’t tell what it was, but all of his senses screamed it at him.

Everyone’s voice had a nervous timber, everyone smelled like anxiety, everyone was jumpy and watching their backs. Fisk’s name was still carrying on whispers. And the snippets he was hearing were coming together to form some kind of picture.

But he didn’t have the time to wait for all of the pieces.

So when the sun was low enough, Matt decided it was time to be direct.

One of the guys had mentioned something about a lawsuit while rambling about documents, so Matt had started tailing him as soon as he’d left for home.

It only took the man stepping a little too close to the mouth of a closed, covered driveway for Matt to make his move.

In an instant, Matt was behind him, grabbing his shoulder and swinging him into the darkness. He swept the man’s feet out from under him, and when he turned over, Matt stood over him.

“Hey fuck you, asshole. You want my shit you’ll have to fight for it.” The man was all bluster, and an amateur on top of that. Matt had already figured out his weaknesses.

He stepped a little closer, remembering that his new outfit didn’t carry the same weight as his old armor. And then he heard the hitch of breath he’d been waiting for.

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not here to fuck with you. And I’m not a criminal! You only go after them I thought.”

“I consider employees of criminals to fall under the same umbrella,” Matt replied. “And it’s too bad, because I _am_ here for you. I need information about what your boss is doing. What they’re building. Who they’re serving.”

“The fuck makes you think I know that?”

“I was watching.” This guy wasn’t anywhere near decision-making levels. But he happened to be in a lot of rooms where information was discussed, and Matt was beginning to understand why.

“Okay, okay, that’s not creepy at all. Uh, uh.”

And somehow the stuttering and the reek of fear had distracted Matt enough to not notice the man reach for a pipe.

He caught it just in time, but it opened him up to a punch in the sternum and a heavy boot planting into his knee. Matt staggered back, blocked another swing of the pipe, and elbowed the man in the nose. While he howled in pain and the pipe clattered to the ground, Matt aimed a kick for his shoulder and got him backed against the wall where he punched him a few times. Just enough for him to stop struggling.

Then the guy pulled out a knife.

Matt could tell by the way it sliced through the air that it was sharp, razor-like. The blade was probably four inches long, serrated on one side. He danced out of the way, but when he moved to disarm the man, he switched the hand holding it.

The pain was like a gasp. A sudden, cold wave of sensation before his side started burning. The panic lasted for a nanosecond long before Matt converted it to anger, pivoted on his back foot and delivered a jump kick to his jaw.

The man fell back to the ground, out cold.

Matt gritted his teeth and limped out of the alcove with his hand pressed against his side. The knife hadn’t hit anything vital, but it had gone a little deep. He’d need stitches.

Shock was setting in and he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate enough to even fumble his phone out of his pocket. Matt growled and used all of his willpower to scan the area for onlookers. Then he oriented himself and made his way toward help.

“Matthew Michael Murdock.” Foggy swallowed the next dozen words he wanted to say because he was in a church, but there was a waver in his voice that undercut the anger and betrayed just how shaken he’d been.

Matt was fine. It was stitches. He’d only called Foggy to keep him updated.

And Foggy, heart pounding harder, had immediately made his way to the orphanage.

Matt smiled at him and had only enough decency to look a little embarrassed. Sister Maggie glanced at Foggy and the look in her eyes was hard to read, but Foggy got the up-and-down before she went back to wiping dried blood from Matt’s side.

The sight of Matt with his shirt off made his heart stop. And not in the fun way.

Now Foggy could see every scar Matt had collected over the years. The long lines from that night he’d almost died and Foggy had found out about everything. A knotted mass near his other hip. A starburst just below his collarbone.

And now this. A gash to the side, stitched neatly, but surrounded by the dark, mottled red of blood in different stages of drying.

Clearly it wasn’t life-threatening. Matt was sitting up under his own power, Sister Maggie was stripping off her gloves and no one was calling for an ambulance or rushing around. But Foggy couldn’t shake the stab of fear he’d felt when he picked up the phone or the rush of worst-case scenarios he’d instantly imagined.

“Hi, Foggy.” Matt lifted a hand.

“Don’t ‘hi, Foggy’ me. What the fu–I mean, hell–I mean–”

Matt and Sister Maggie both looked amused, but Foggy wasn’t in the mood to share the joke.

“What were you doing?” he demanded.

Sister Maggie leveled a look at Matt that was so reminiscent of what Foggy sometimes got from his mom that he shuddered. And remembered who she was.

“Matthew,” her tone was as reproachful as the look, and Matt’s expression shifted easily to guilt.

Matt sighed and hunched his shoulders. “I tried to find out if the people Fisk had worked with are doing something to protect him, or how he was organizing them now. Someone had a knife and they were better with it than they were at hand-to-hand fighting.”

“You confronted someone who had a knife,” Sister Maggie repeated.

“Not on purpose, they pulled it out!”

“Can’t you smell knives or something?” Foggy asked.

Matt rolled his eyes like Foggy had said something unreasonable. “If I try. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Foggy’s voice had finally climbed down from fear and even anger. Now it was just hurt.

Matt’s face immediately crumbled and his eyes widened. “I was going to.”

“When you were done, though.” Foggy pointed out.

Matt nodded and dropped his head. “Yeah. I would have told you if I found anything.”

“But you wouldn’t have even mentioned it if you hadn’t.” Foggy crossed his arms and settled back against the wall.

Matt froze and he didn’t look sure, which was really all the information Foggy needed. He knew how Matt worked. In all honesty, he probably hadn’t thought much farther than deciding where to hunt these people down and how to confront them.

“I would have,” he said. There was a wrinkle in his forehead as the words left his mouth, but he also sat up straighter and set his shoulders back. “Later, when I met you back at the shop. I would have told you that I didn’t learn anything about what Fisk might be doing or how he’s influencing this activity. Because that’s the kind of important stuff you need to know.”

And when he turned to Foggy, his face was open and Earnest like he was willing Foggy to believe him. On the other side of the room, Sister Maggie watched them, wearing a neutral expression that seemed practiced.

“I had a hunch, so I decided to follow it. I should have let you know what I was doing, but I wasn’t trying to keep you out. I just didn’t think that far.”

Foggy closed his eyes for a second and sighed. “I know, Matty.”

He looked at Matt, sitting on the edge of a concrete block with a hopeful look on his face, and he melted.

“You don’t have to beat yourself up, you know,” he said. “Yeah it would have been nice of you to tell me you were going after Fisk’s people before you left, but I appreciate that you would have told me afterward. It’s baby steps, right?”

The smile on Matt’s face was like sunlight breaking through clouds and Foggy had to look away lest he forgive Matt for getting stabbed.

A tearing sound ripped through the air, and Foggy tensed and turned toward Sister Maggie, who was holding an adhesive dressing to put over the new stitches. There was a wry smile on her face, but Foggy still couldn’t figure out what she was thinking when she looked at him.

“While I’m glad you’ve got that all worked out, I need to get back to my real job,” she said as she efficiently but gently pressed the dressing over Matt’s side.

“The serving God part or the scaring children part?” Matt asked. His words were light, but his mouth turned up the way Foggy recognized as his teasing face.

“Serving God is my _vocation_, Matthew,” she answered, and the dry tone was something Foggy recognized, too. She had a fond smile on her face even as her eyes sharpened while looking at him. Like she was trying not to be affected by him and failing.

Foggy looked at Matt and understood the feeling. 

She straightened away and crumpled the paper into a ball. “You know how to take care of these, Matthew. See that you do. But Mr. Nelson, I’d recommend keeping an eye on him and reminding him of the stitches.”

She looked at him then, and familiar light danced in her eyes. She was pulling Foggy into the joke and inviting him to play along. Foggy hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know her on that night they’d saved Karen, but he remembered how calm and focused she’d been. How it had convinced him their plan could work. 

“Believe me, I will,” he replied, smiling.

Matt did his equivalent of an eyeroll again and shrugged his shirt back on. Foggy glanced at him and remembered: Matt was okay.

Sister Maggie smiled a little when she said, “You’re free to go. It was nice to see you again Mr. Nelson.”

Foggy smiled back and resisted the urge to correct a nun, even as Matt had a strange look on his face.

“Come on, buddy. I have to get back to the shop and you promised you’d help me.”

Matt met him in the doorway, but turned back to the room. “Thank you, Sister.”

“Anytime, Matthew,” she replied lightly.

Then Matt turned toward Foggy, and grabbed his arm, pulling him just a little closer to his side. Foggy waved over his shoulder.

To his delight, Sister Maggie waved back.

Matt didn’t let go of Foggy until they got all the way into the shop and Foggy had to let go in order to sit at one of the barstools.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been worried that Foggy would be angrier at him. As he took his own seat at the bar, Matt realized he hadn’t been lying about telling Foggy as soon as he came back. It was too important to keep from him, and it was something Matt almost wanted to brainstorm.

He decided to tell him more.

Foggy didn’t react exactly the way Matt expected. He just turned toward him and breathed slow and steady. Matt thought there was an expression on his face, but he couldn’t even guess what it might be.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“You can’t smell my hormones or something?”

Matt smiled weakly, mostly because he knew it was a joke. “No.”

“I’m thinking that I believe you. That I understand you’re not used to telling people things. That you grew up hiding basically everything and some habits are hard to break. You’ve got secrets, I’ve got stress-eating, and we’re all just trying to move past our worst instincts.”

Matt was dumbstruck. He reached up and plucked his glasses off his face so Foggy could see his whole expression because there was no hope of using words.

Foggy understood, and he’d put it into words better than Matt could.

“I mean, I can’t say I’m not still a little mad at you,” Foggy said. His tone was more careful. “Because I really, really would have appreciated you telling me that you were going out to hunt for more information from the crime syndicates tonight. I probably wouldn’t have stopped you. I might have wanted to discuss it.

“But I said I was okay with Daredevil getting involved and this document stuff is freaking us all out. I guess it makes sense that you jumped on it. Next time just tell me okay?”

Matt nodded. He really thought he could do that. A jagged, destructive feeling in his chest went quiet, soothed by the forgiveness in Foggy’s voice, and the knowledge that they weren’t going to fight.

“I’m also thinking about Sister Maggie,” Foggy admitted, and his voice was different again. 

“What about her?” Matt was careful to keep his own tone neutral because he was of two minds about where this conversation could go.

Foggy was quiet in that way he got when he realized he didn’t want to talk about something he brought up. Eventually he said, quietly, “You look like her.”

Against his will, Matt made a questioning noise.

“Your hair and eyes are the same color of brown. There are some expressions she does that look a lot like you. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No,” Matt protested. “No, I–I’m glad I know that.” He’d always assumed that he’d turned out to look like his father. Enough people who’d known Jack Murdock said so. He’d never even considered how he might resemble his mother.

“It’s still strange to think that if things were different, I could have grown up with her as a mom,” he said. “It’s weird enough to realize that she kind of raised me. That she did have some influence on my life as I grew up.”

Matt hadn’t fully reconciled it with himself, and he tried to avoid the line of thought because it didn’t really seem like one with a conclusion.

Foggy nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. God, that is weird.” He was quiet for a moment but then he offered, “You know, it’s nice that she cares enough to do things like stitch you up when you’re stupid.”

Matt laughed. “Please, she’s been doing that since I was fourteen.” She’d always given off a mixture of being annoyed and something else like proud or fond. Foggy laughed with him.

“The relationship building is going slow, but it’s pretty good,” he admitted, and Foggy shifted the way he always did when he smiled a particular smile at Matt. The one that made Matt feel like a light turned on in his chest.

“I’m really glad, Matty. I’m. It’s good that you have somebody like that. And that you’re being open-minded about it.” His voice was warm, and Matt ducked his head. He didn’t reach for his glasses.

“She’s kind of the only person I have left who knew me back then,” he said quietly.

Foggy held his breath and his heart sped up just a fraction of a second. Heat rushed to his cheeks a moment later. “Oh my God.”

“No, don’t worry. I think I’ve wanted to talk about this with you for a long time,” Matt said. He took a deep breath to keep his feelings under control.

“No matter how much I hated Stick, and how mad I was at Father Lantom, I miss them,” he was proud that his voice only shook a little, probably not even enough for Foggy to notice.

“But they helped raise me too, you know. Stick made me stronger. Despite everything else he did, I never would have become this capable without him. And Father–”

His voice broke dangerously and Foggy made a soft noise in his throat, shifting closer so their arms were pressed together on the bar.

“He was there for me through all of it, you know?”

Matt could have dug into the massive, knotted ball of guilt that lived in his heart where he kept his last memories of those two men, but Foggy wrapped him in a hug before he could get there and the feeling faded away.

Like this, Matt could feel Foggy’s heartbeat too. In the arms on his back, and from his chest. He sighed into it and snaked his arms around Foggy.

The phone, almost right next to them at the bar, pierced the air. Foggy grumbled and shifted toward it, but he wouldn’t let go of Matt.

“Hello?” he asked, disguising some of the irritation. Matt was close enough that he could hear the other side perfectly.

“Mr. Franklin Nelson?” The voice was clipped, precise, maybe lightly accented. Foggy’s heart shivered and Matt tensed.

“Uh, yes. Speaking.”

“Good. I’m calling to follow up with you about the loan your brother took out a few months ago with Red Lion Bank. Before they closed, it was transferred to us. You see, interest has gone up and we’re still missing the first payment. That makes two missed payments now.”

“Right,” Foggy gasped. His hands had tightened on the receiver and Matt could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Matt felt Foggy look at him, and he couldn’t do anything but listen along.


	6. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets complicated and decisions no one wants to make get made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't expect regular uploading to be such a problem but I guess it is. I promise I don't want it to be like this either.

Foggy shivered in the air conditioning and glanced around the reception area without taking any of it in.

He’d gotten a leash around the panic, but it was still in his head like a mist, settling so it touched all of his thoughts. It wasn’t spiking anymore; it was just everywhere.

“Mr. Nelson, she’s ready for you now.”

“Thanks, Stella,” he said as he stood up. She knew him well enough to call him Foggy, but he hadn’t seen her for months, and this law office did pride itself on cold professionalism.

The office was nice. Carpeted, big windows, plenty of bookshelves for law books, abstract art that used to be in the apartment.

“Hey, Foggy Bear.”

“Hi Marci.”

She was standing, reading something in a folder, and glanced up at Foggy when he stepped over the threshold.

Marci being friendly eased some of his worries, at least.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t talked since their breakup, but there had been a level of distance to the conversations. And most had happened over text. The breakup hadn’t been bad, but it wasn’t easy or clean either.

Still, she’d agreed to meet with him.

Foggy smiled and made his way deeper into the office. “So, I need to ask a favor.”

She lifted her eyebrows when she looked up again, and she leaned against the front of her desk.

“If this is going to be like the last one that got me fired, I’m not interested.”

“No. Nothing like that. I was just wondering if you could help me out with attracting some more cases,” Foggy said. Or, he meant to say. The words came out sounding more like a question, and somehow some of his desperation leaked in, too.

Marci looked up sharply, and her eyes snapped to him. Foggy did his best to hold on, but the smile slipped, and he saw her catch that, too.

She closed her file and straightened up from the desk.

“What’s wrong?”

Foggy considered brushing her off, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Marci and Matt had always been the two people who wouldn’t fall for it.

“My family’s in trouble and I need some quick, paying cases to help them out,” he said. “You don’t have to get involved, but if you could just send some cases our way, that would be really great.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Financial. Kind of legal,” he took a breath. Then kept going when he realized the added oxygen wasn’t going to help. “I just need to make the extra money, Marce.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and her eyes had gone big and round. Foggy had no idea what she could be thinking, but it looked drowned in sympathy.

Then Marci nodded, quick, and turned back to her desk and the files on top of it. Instead of being relieved, Foggy just felt like his chest was getting tighter.

He’d felt torn about coming here, but he’d known it was his best option. When it came down to it, he was a damn good lawyer and if he could get people to pay him for it, he could handle the loan.

But he hated to take this problem out of the office where it was still just him and Matt who knew.

Part of him even hated that Matt knew, if he was honest with himself.

Marci turned back to him with a small collection of folders and swept the hair on one side of her face behind her ear. “These are cases we’re probably never going to take. Do you have business cards with you?”

“Um,” Foggy dug in his pocket with one hand at the same time he reached for the folders. The first time they’d opened up, Foggy had gotten a little excited and sprang for one of those bundles office supply websites were always offering.

He hadn’t had a chance to get through all of them, but the phone numbers hadn’t changed and the address was easy to cover up.

Marci looked less than impressed, but she took the cards Foggy offered anyway.

Then her eyes were back on his. “Don’t do anything stupid, Foggy.”

“Come on Marce, you know I can’t make that guarantee.” He tried smiling again and he felt like he was more successful this time.

She didn’t seem to agree. “I’m being serious,” she came closer and rested her hand against his cheek. “The world’s a mess, especially in this neighborhood, and I don’t want to have to worry about you. It’ll ruin my image.”

Foggy nodded, considering her words. “I’ll do my best. I like to think we’re getting better at it with experience.”

Her smile was wry. “That’s a nice thought.”

“Thank you for this. I mean it. You’re a goddess,” Foggy said, lifting the folders. They wouldn’t fix his problems, but they could pave the way.

She rolled her eyes but there was a good-natured smile on her face. “Don’t forget it, Foggy Bear. And good luck with Murdock and your family life.”

The good nature turned into something decidedly less so, but she was already back to reading her folder, so Foggy didn’t have a chance to ask what she meant.

The braille printer went silent and Matt leapt up to retrieve the copy of a fraction of the last documents Jessica had brought to the office.

It was the least he could do. It was all he could do.

Foggy had called for a stop to everything when he hung up the phone. His fear had been sharp enough that Matt felt it spear through him. He’d agreed as a reflex, anything to calm Foggy’s heartbeat or encourage the blood to return to his face. In the moment, Matt had been too concerned that Foggy might pass out to do anything else.

But every second he wasn’t on the streets tracking down these sharks, the pit in his stomach got heavier.

Of course, they were connected to Fisk, and of course they were connected to the libel case.

It was another scare tactic and it had Matt bristling. Because now Fisk had extended his attack. Now he was coming directly after one of his friends, and every fiber of Matt’s being urged him to neutralize the threat and to show Fisk that he took their bargain seriously.

But Foggy held him back.

At the same time that the devil in Matt raged for vengeance, Matt remembered the sharp, metallic flavor of Foggy’s fear and his insistence that they walk away from the trail they’d started to uncover.

This was a bigger threat, and a physical one. The sharks had been clear about that.

So Matt was working with the documents they had on the libel case and revisiting some of the work he’d set aside. It helped a little because he was still doing something. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to do.

A familiar tread of footsteps entered the shop downstairs and Matt heard the happy greetings from the Nelsons. It wasn’t long before they were outside the office door and Brett knocked on it before coming in.

Matt left his documents behind and left his office to meet him.

“Detective Mahoney.”

“Hey Murdock. Is Foggy around? He said he needed law enforcement and I was the only one he’d talk to.”

There was a thin trace of worry buried under the exasperation and annoyance. Matt wondered what else Foggy had said and how he’d done it.

“No, he stepped out for a moment. But I think I know why you’re here.”

Foggy had been nervous when he’d left, trying to cover it up with jokes and comments about needing the comfort of carbs. Matt had let him get away with it simply because he wanted the alone time with his own worries.

Brett hummed and came farther into their office. “What’s up?”

“There’s been a development with Fisk and we were hoping you could use your eyes for us.”

Brett settled back on his heels and crossed his arms. “What kind of development?”

Matt explained, in the barest details he could. He leaned heavy on Fisk’s involvement and left the Nelsons out as much as he could. Brett may be the one cop they could trust, but Matt knew well how much he hated being put in these positions.

Before Tower had dismantled Red Lion, the bank had apparently sold the loan to new loan sharks and they’d raised the interest and expected the money at some point.

When he was done, Brett sighed out a long breath and muttered something about never listening to Foggy. “He’s still in supermax, and he’s not talking to anyone.”

“That you’ve seen,” Matt insisted. “What’s preventing him from doing the same thing he did last time?”

Instead of answering, Brett went silent and watched him. Matt didn’t know him as well, but he could read hesitation when he perceived it. Brett was always suspicious, always wary, but Matt would bet he was thinking strictly like a detective.

“Is there something you know that I should?” he asked. “Is Daredevil involved?”

Matt exhaled slowly. He’d known Brett had figured it out and he didn’t mind because it had never come up. But now they were apparently acknowledging it.

“That’s still to be determined. Right now, Fisk’s pulling strings to keep his influence out there. Or having someone do it for him. And if we don’t catch it, it’s going to bite us all in the ass eventually.” Matt let him remember what it had been like last time. “And this time, part of it is coming straight at Foggy and the rest of the Nelsons.”

Brett sighed again. “Fine. I’ll get more eyes on him. But Murdock, make sure I don’t have to get any more involved than that. I don’t want to have to break my mother’s heart arresting the Nelsons.”

Matt nodded. “You won’t.” 

“Okay then, tell Foggy I stopped by.” Brett turned to go and Matt’s mouth jumped ahead of his brain.

“Brett.” He waited until Brett faced him again and swallowed against the bad feeling churning in his gut. “Would you check in on this man when you get a chance?” Matt quickly typed up the address he’d found Delaney at and showed it to Brett.

“As quiet as you can, please.”

Brett took out his own phone and Matt listened to the pattern of tapping. The wariness was back in his voice when he said, “I’ll do my best.” Then he straightened away. “See you later, Murdock.”

“Have a good day, Detective.”

As soon as he left, Matt wondered if he should have done that. It could easily have turned into a guilt cycle, but then he picked up on Foggy’s presence, moving closer.

As usual, Matt felt better for simply knowing where and how his friend was. His brain settled and Matt happily paid attention to Foggy coming closer, physically alright and seeming much happier than he’d been when he’d left.

It wasn’t quite enough to drown out the nagging feeling at the back of his neck. The sense that he wasn’t doing enough, that something was slipping through the cracks because he wasn’t there to catch it.

So, he counted Foggy’s footsteps and tried to figure out what song he was — badly — whistling.

Matt couldn’t help the pocket of warmth that opened up in his chest because of it. Foggy had been running on nothing but different levels of stress since the phone call a little more than a day ago, and it was a relief to pick up on something else.

And by the time he was able to pull his mind away from that pit, Foggy was climbing the stairs and Matt could be distracted.

He smelled like sugar and Marci, and Matt debated whether he should mention it before landing on the safe side. He filed it away for later.

“I take it the carb mission went well,” Matt observed. Foggy had brought some back with him, and that happiness Matt had picked up from the street was filling the office.

“You have no idea, Matty. And while I was in line for these,” he opened the top on a sampler of cheesecake, “I brainstormed a little bit.”

Matt lifted his eyebrows and accepted the fork Foggy passed to him.

“Since we’re going to have less to do with the libel case, it only makes sense for us to branch out a little. Keep the firm going while we put that case on pause, you know?” His voice fluttered over the words. He was nervous about that. But they’d talked about it, very briefly, when Foggy stammered that they couldn’t keep digging, so Matt didn’t understand. 

“So, I got some more cases today! Short and sweet and they come with the promise of paychecks,” Foggy continued. He swung his briefcase onto his desk and pulled more folders out.

He decided to address what he’d filed away.

“Did you go to Marci to get these?”

“Yeah…” Foggy’s hesitation sounded different from Brett’s, and Matt couldn’t understand the shadow of guilt in it. “I figured she’d be willing to help.”

Matt paused and bit back the reflexive “We’re in this together, I’m helping too,” but it might have still showed on his face. He told himself it wasn’t jealousy.

“I’m glad she was able to,” he said. “How was she?”

“She seemed good. She’s clearly thriving. And get this, she was _concerned_ and then she wished us luck.”

Foggy didn’t sound all that sad, in fact he sounded almost normal again. Matt knew he always felt better when he had something to do, but they’d never really talked about Marci and how that had ended.

“Any chance of getting back together again?”

“No,” Foggy said slowly. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to…we’ve both moved on. And I think our roads might have diverged for good.”

“Oh,” Matt replied. Foggy hadn’t hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

And then Matt heard something better than Foggy’s footsteps. “Don’t be, Matty.” He said it mildly, but he was finally smiling. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Foggy said. He couldn’t stand the idea of telling more people, but Karen and Jessica needed to know. Matt didn’t even look up from his desk. This wasn’t new.

“You don’t have to. Dare–”

“Nope, you’re right it’s the best option.” Matt sighed and Foggy wondered if he thought it was too quiet to hear. “I can face Karen.”

“That bodes well,” Karen commented. “Is it why you called us all in so early? And where the hell were you yesterday?”

Pacing the floor in his apartment, incapable of thinking about law beyond cycling through how much trouble his family would be in if he couldn’t handle the loan.

“Excellent questions,” Foggy said. “All in good time.”

Karen frowned and Jessica looked impatient. Matt was looking unhappy at his desk, but he was being quiet.

“We have to stop everything,” Foggy said.

“What are you talking about?” Karen asked. Jessica’s eyebrows wanted to know the same thing.

The idea of explaining it all again felt impossible, so Matt picked up the task, explained the loan, the sharks, the interest, the very thinly veiled threats of physical violence. 

Foggy hadn’t needed to do it–Matt had been right there, after all–but he’d told Matt everything as soon as the call ended the other night. The fear had been too toxic to keep inside, and Matt had simply moved so he was the one holding onto Foggy.

He looked over when Matt finished to see both Jessica and Karen scowling.

“We have to stop digging for now,” Foggy said. “They have to be connected to Fisk, and we have to pull back on the investigation until we can figure out how.”

Jessica’s eyes flickered over to Matt like she was trying to read his reaction, and for Matt’s part, he didn’t give away the fact that he wasn’t a fan of the idea.

There he was, standing by Foggy’s decision, as he had since the beginning.

And Foggy had to admit that even when they’d discussed how to move forward, Matt had yielded ground to Foggy’s perspective far more than Foggy would have expected. It was a pleasant surprise.

“What are we going to do then?” Karen demanded. “Give up the case?”

“It’s going to move to the back-burner for now,” Matt said. “We’ll still work on a defense and have it ready for the trial, but we have to call off the document hunt if the sharks really are connected to Fisk.”

Karen still didn’t look happy, but that seemed to be enough of an explanation. Now she just looked at Foggy with sympathy practically dripping from her eyes.

“What’s your family going to do about the loan?”

“Nothing. They don’t know,” Foggy said quickly. But Karen narrowed her eyes, so she looked almost exactly like a blond version of Jessica. Foggy glanced at Matt, curious if he’d swoop in to save him again. But Matt’s mouth had just gotten tighter because this was the part of the situation he really hated.

Jessica was the one to cut through the silence. “What did you do?”

Before he could fight it, the answer was coming out of Foggy’s mouth. “Well, along with getting a new owner, the loan also got a new debtor. They said I took responsibility for it by having Tower handle it way back when we thought this nightmare was over.”

The story was a bit more complicated than that. Foggy also knew his family didn’t have the resources, and he at least had enough for the first payment.

“Foggy,” Karen protested. It was sweet, and he wished he was in a better place to appreciate it.

“So, what’s next?” Jessica asked. She turned the question to Matt and to Foggy.

“If you would, you and Karen can go through the documents we do have,” Foggy explained. “Meanwhile, Matt and I will take on separate, paying cases courtesy of Marci Stahl.”

Jessica was still glaring at Matt and Foggy knew he could tell. The mild smile on his lips and tilt to his head gave it away. And Foggy was pretty sure Jessica knew that, too.

“It’s a good plan, Jess,” Matt said. “It’s what we have to do.”

“So Daredevil isn’t getting involved at all?” she asked.

“No,” Foggy said, and he knew his voice was too hard, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s the first thing they’re going to expect. We’re just going to pay the loan off until it’s done or I figure out how to get rid of it.” That was partly what Brett was for, even if he didn’t know it.

“Foggy!” Karen’s voice was sharper this time and she moved closer. “You can’t just give in. We have enough to nail Fisk _again_.”

“Not when it’s my family, Karen,” Foggy retorted. “Apparently he’s got tricks up his sleeves, and I’m not going to take my chances.”

“Especially not when Fisk’s lawyers can bring it up whenever they want,” Matt supplied. “If it gets out that Foggy or the Nelsons are responsible for a fraudulent loan everything here is done. We can’t risk letting the trap get tighter.”

Foggy nodded, swallowing. There was that, too. He’d forgotten somehow. Matt flashed him a small smile and quirked his eyebrows in apology.

Karen went quiet and watched him for a long moment before she nodded. “Okay, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Thank you,” Foggy said quietly. Then he lifted his eyes to look over everyone. “That’s all, we just wanted to update you both since this is going to be a big change from how things have been running the last couple of weeks.”

They nodded, and then Jess, who was glaring at Matt again, grabbed him by the arm, and Matt only tensed for a second before she successfully dragged him toward the door.

“Excuse us,” she muttered as she passed. The door closed loudly behind them and Foggy heard the thump of footsteps as they went toward the store room.

He looked at Karen and found a reflection of his expression on her face. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked at the door with her head tipped to the side.

“Do you think they’re–?”

“No,” Foggy said before she could finish. And he was surprised by how fast he said it. Karen looked surprised, too.

“I mean, Jessica Jones is always intense, right?” he continued. “She probably wants to talk about what they were doing on their end of this case. I don’t think they’re going to have sex in the store room. Besides, you know, I don’t get that vibe from either of them. You know?”

Foggy made himself stop talking.

Karen narrowed her eyes and tipped her head at him then, but she didn’t say why. “You’re probably right,” she said mildly. “I am surprised how well Matt’s taking this though. I expected him to be arguing harder for Daredevil.”

“You and me both,” Foggy said.

It went a little deeper for him, though.

As soon as he’d ended the call, Matt had squeezed his shoulders a little tighter and said, “I’ll find them, Foggy. I promise.” Foggy had seen in his face and felt in the tense way Matt held himself that his best friend was already thinking about how to do it.

Matt had been ready to go out that night, despite the new stitches in his side.

And he’d frozen when Foggy said, “No.”

They’d talked it out, and Matt had made a few points in favor of Daredevil, but he’d mostly deferred to Foggy after that first protest. He’d _listened_.

And so far, he wasn’t pushing.

Foggy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, because Matt agreeing with him wasn’t shocking, but something about it felt different to how he was used to dealing with Daredevil.

It made the feeling of his developing ulcer go away, and it had him remembering those commitments they’d made weeks ago about communicating. 

“It’s good though,” Karen continued. “We need to be all together on this. I get the feeling it’s just starting.”

Foggy couldn’t agree more.

As he trudged through the cemetery, Matt tried not to think of Jess’s threats or her disappointment, or the fact that everyone was faking optimism.

Matt didn’t think the plan they’d settled on was doomed to fail, but he knew it overlooked the real problem, and the pit in his stomach had only grown deeper since he’d decided to ignore it.

He sighed and ran his hand over the top of the nearest tombstone, and then he rounded it to sink to the ground in front of it.

“Hey Dad,” he whispered. “I’m just stopping by to let you know I still have my life on track. And to vent.” Matt sighed and settled back on his hands. “I’m trying to work with my friends. We’re all communicating and we have a strategy. But Jess chewed me out today because she thinks I’m going to try to go behind their backs.”

He tore up a few fingerfuls of grass and processed his thoughts by way of saying them out loud.

“I’m not–I _can’t_ do that. Everything’s on the line because Fisk set up something that will hurt Foggy directly if we don’t navigate it carefully enough and I can’t let that happen. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t lose him again.

“It’s his decision, and I respect him, I – I love him too much not to honor that.” Matt took a deep breath to get his voice under control.

“So, I’m trying, Dad. I’m trying really hard to stick to that. I’m trying to make you proud.” Matt wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and rocked forward to settle his elbows on his thighs.

Jack’s headstone was silent as always, but just being there was comforting. Over the years of visits, Matt had memorized everything about the plot of land: from the way the land rose and fell, to the way the stone smelled and every single detail of the letters etched into it.

It was peaceful and familiar enough to make him feel safe saying, “And I don’t know if that’s enough. I don’t know if the way out is through.”

He hated himself for it. But that wasn’t for Jack to be burdened by.

“I’ll try to visit again soon,” he said, unfolding his legs and trailing his fingertips over the jagged slope of the headstone. “I just wanted you to know that I’m fighting for them. I won’t give up so easy.”

Matt turned to the corner and picked his way along a new path that was now becoming muscle memory, too.

“Good evening, Father.”

He ignored the gust of wind that buffeted his side.

“I’m being tempted, and I don’t know how to resist it. Or if I should. But I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did before.” Matt let his chin fall to his chest. “I don’t want to drive them away for good.”

He lowered himself to the ground in front of this stone too. It was smoother than his dad’s, and Matt wondered if it was because of a different design or different age.

The thought of associating the scent and feel of this stone with Father Lantom hurt as much as it had when he was ten years old.

“I can’t get rid of the thought that I’m letting Fisk win by backing down. And I can’t let him hurt Foggy, but I can’t tell if confronting the problem or keeping my head down is the way to keep it from happening.”

Matt couldn’t ignore the danger Foggy (and the other Nelsons) was in, or the fact that he could maybe do something about it. It was all connected: the libel case, the disappearing documents, the snatches of Fisk’s name on the streets, and now this.

Fisk was setting something up, and Matt was letting him.

And it terrified him.

All his instincts told him to fight back.

“I don’t want to lie to them, and I want Foggy to know that I care what he thinks. But everything feels wrong and I know I could fix it. Or make it better, at least. I just can’t do it without arguing with them first.”

Matt closed his eyes and sat with a rock on one side and a hard place on the other.

The wind blew again and this time it was strong enough to pick at Matt’s suit jacket, and to make his cane shift where it rested beside him.

His glasses slid down his nose and Matt pushed them up as the light of an idea started to shine. It showed him the way out of his impossible position.

“Really?” He wasn’t sure who he was asking, but it felt important that he did.

But he was already on his feet and saying goodbye to Father Lantom, promising to visit him again soon.

Matt gripped his cane tighter and swung it in front of him in the way he rarely ever did. He straightened his shoulders, checked his pace and unleashed the scope of his senses. The blocks of criminal activity weren’t too far away, and it was a beautiful night for a walk.

A nagging voice in the back of his head told him this was a bad idea. It sounded too much like Sister Maggie.

But another voice reminded him that Fisk couldn’t be underestimated or allowed to get stronger. Some things you had to stop before they started.

And Matt wasn’t going to risk Foggy’s life.

So, he took a left that positioned him across the street from one of the many buildings he’d been staking out, and he listened.

And Matt Murdock walked around Hell’s Kitchen listening until he was satisfied, tapping his cane in broad sweeps in front of him.

Foggy dragged himself into the office and prayed that Matt got his text about coffee. One of the best shops was near his apartment, and their red-eyes were magical.

The cases Marci had given them were still exactly what he’d been looking for, but they were more complicated than they seemed on their face, too. He’d gotten a little lost digging into the Supreme Court case that was cited in the previous lawyer’s notes before she’d moved on.

Foggy glanced at the sheets of paper still on the wall and remembered the feeling of taking Fisk on, but doing it in Foggy’s area of expertise. Idly, he wondered if that’s how Matt felt as Daredevil.

Then he sighed at himself and fell into his desk chair. His eyes skimmed over the notes he’d taken while he was on the phone with the loan sharks.

Foggy almost had the first payment together, but with the interest and the initial amount, it was just the first of many to come. He made a mental note to send Marci more business cards, and to bother Theo about handing them out downstairs.

God, he was tired.

The sight of Matt coming in made it better though. He straightened up, as if Matt would notice. Well, he’d probably notice, but he wouldn’t care.

Matt looked a little less tired than Foggy, but he was carrying the coffee and that was Foggy’s main concern.

“You’re a saint, Matty.”

Matt smiled and set the coffee down on the edge of Foggy’s desk. “You’ll have to take that up with the Pope.”

“Done. What’s the Vatican’s phone number?” The espresso hit his blood and Foggy grinned up at Matt again. Whatever fatigue had been dragging him down, Matt had pulled him back up and Foggy felt a bit like there was fizz in his chest. Enough that he was willing to carry a dumb joke until it stopped being even a little funny.

Matt’s smile just got wider and he slid into his chair while clutching his own coffee. Then he set his glasses on his desk and leaned back to take a drink.

He hadn’t fixed his bedhead yet, and he clearly wasn’t fully awake, so he just looked soft as he smiled at Foggy from behind his desk. And Foggy felt butterflies flutter through his stomach.

Foggy hadn’t been sure he’d ever see this Matt again, and here he was.

“I don’t know if the Pope takes personal calls, but I’d guess he definitely doesn’t do it if you’re not Catholic.”

“Oh right, I don’t have the clearance. I forgot about that.”

“It’s an exclusive club, Fog. Lots of rules and it takes a lot of time to become a member.”

“Right.” Foggy drank more coffee and savored the warmth and the promise of energy. “Hey, can you feel it when caffeine hits your bloodstream? Or smell it on other people?” He tipped his head toward Matt, who frowned like he was thinking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever noticed. I can smell it on other people, though. Wait.” Foggy watched his face and the expression of concentration. He told himself he didn’t notice the way Matt’s lips pouted just a little.

“Those are the kinds of things I try to filter out,” Matt said. “It’s distracting enough picking up on it from everyone else…” Then his eyelids fluttered and he grinned. “But yeah I can feel it. It’s about to hit you, too.”

Foggy took his word for it and another drink. “The sooner the better,” he muttered. “What’s the range on your senses?” More and more they seemed to be a pain in the ass.

Matt frowned again. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever stretched them to their limits. Before I learned how to control them, when they were just wide open, I couldn’t really make sense of any of the information that got in, and I’ve never opened them all the way up again.” He went quiet like he was imagining that, and Foggy tried to do it along with him.

Obviously, Matt could sense all of the things about himself that he could about other people, and Foggy understood why he ignored that. From other conversations they’d had, it seemed like he could definitely clock the whole neighborhood. And Foggy had a hard time imagining, but no trouble believing, that Matt could pick up on even more if he wanted to. Even the whole island.

“Shame you didn’t get a pamphlet for all of that in the hospital,” Foggy said. Matt looked surprised he’d gone there, and Foggy immediately felt his face flame.

He was scrambling to form an apology, but then Matt threw his head back in laughter.

“Down one sense, up all the others,” Matt said, like he was reading a pamphlet title.

The laughter was contagious, and so was the joke. “Navigating a world full of Dumpsters.”

“If you want to keep your sanity, read this.”

The laughing subsided and Matt tipped his head toward Foggy. By now he was so familiar with that gesture that he paid attention to his own body, and noticed that caffeine had indeed reached his bloodstream.

“Why did you need the coffee so bad?” Matt asked, and there was no way he didn’t know the answer, and no way Foggy could get away with not telling him.

“I was working late again last night. These cases are good, but it’s still legal work. And some of them already had some headway, so I had to look into that. Like this one,” he pulled one of his files closer. “The defendant is desperate to keep it out of federal court so it has some technicalities to consider.”

Matt seemed to be doing his version of studying Foggy, and with his face uncovered Foggy could watch the micro-changes in his expression.

“Are you going to tell your family about the loan?” he asked eventually.

“I’m not sure why I would,” Foggy said before he could think better of it. It was the most honest answer he could give.

Instead of saying anything, Matt’s head just tipped to the side and he blinked at him. His face was still soft, but there was something even more so in his expression. His eyes widened a little and then he nodded.

“I understand,” he said, and there was a touch of sadness to the words.

And even though he didn’t elaborate, Foggy knew he did.

“Yeah,” he said, just to fill the silence.

Matt turned his face back toward his desk and closed his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh. “Daredevil could fix some of it.”

“What?” Foggy wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he hoped that Matt could make something out of it.

“Instead of letting Fisk drain your savings and set his sights on you and your family, I can help keep them safe if I go out as Daredevil.”

“Matt–”

“Foggy, we’ve talked about when Daredevil should come into play and this is one of those times. You can’t go to the police and you can’t just work yourself to the bone to pay this off or risk the sharks coming after your family. And we can’t let Fisk and his lawyers bankrupt the Bulletin over a bullshit libel suit.”

Whatever hesitation or guilt he might have been feeling faded away. Matt was on his feet and his eyes were wide and Foggy thought he might start pacing.

“There isn’t another option anymore. Everyone’s talking. I hear Fisk’s name everywhere. They’re not going to hold back. But I can still head them off, or get enough information for Brett to investigate. You know it. This is something for Daredevil to do.” Matt’s voice sped up and his eyebrows had twisted down over his eyes.

Foggy clearly remembered the last time he’d seen this particular look on Matt’s face. He gritted his teeth and breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to get rid of the cold feeling that had flooded his system.

It was only shaky and he didn’t feel any better.

“What do you mean you hear everyone talking about Fisk?” Foggy asked, forcing his thoughts and his eyes away from that expression. Trying to pretend they hadn’t had this conversation before and it hadn’t ended in Matt disappearing.

Matt wiped a hand over his face and he looked more put together when it returned to his side.

“I can hear all of them talking. My ears,” he dropped back into his chair and rested his elbows on his desk. “My hearing is kind of like a radio. I can tune in and out of different streams of sound at will, and I spent last night listening to every single mention of Fisk’s name. Any mention of the firm, the lawsuit, Red Lion, the loan, anything that happened while Fisk was out.”

“That’s still the opposite of not investigating, Matt. Just like before,” Foggy pointed out, but he couldn’t even summon anger over that.

Because, deep down, Foggy had been circling the same drain. And he wondered if Matt was right.

His friend looked more upset than he’d seen him in a while. And he looked like he meant what he said, just another version of the Earnest face.

“I can’t turn my ears off, Foggy,” he sighed. “And I can’t leave this alone when you’re in danger, more danger than last time. I didn’t do anything more than get close enough to hear it all clearly. I didn’t touch anything or talk to anyone. I just walked around and I sat in a park two blocks away for a while. But you’re right, I technically investigated.”

Foggy waited for further justification. Matt loved listing reasons why he had to do something or break rules. But it never came.

And Foggy had a chance to dwell on the low, steady fire in his voice. Nothing but conviction and a swell of protectiveness that Foggy hadn’t heard in a while.

So, this wasn’t going to be an argument.

Foggy had never really expected Matt to stay completely out of the mix of criminals and he wasn’t sure which one of them was more of a hypocrite for it. 

“Don’t you think they’re going to expect Daredevil?” he asked finally. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Defeat didn’t look good on Matt, but this was the crux of the issue. Daredevil couldn’t do much if he couldn’t do it in secret.

Matt sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His head bowed over his hands, almost like he was praying. Foggy realized he still wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“You’re right. It’s risky. But do we really have better options?” Matt asked. “If we use Daredevil, I could just pick up where I left off with surveillance. But we’ll have to be more direct this time around. This has all escalated past what I was doing before.”

“We?”

Matt aimed a small, shaky smile in his direction. Then he got up and walked closer to Foggy’s desk. He hesitated for a moment before he set his hand on top of Foggy’s.

And Foggy…his thoughts went blank for a millisecond, like a record skip. He stared at their hands for a moment, and then looked up at Matt’s face.

“I’m not going to do more without your input, Fog. This–last night was because I’m worried.”

Foggy nodded slowly and looked back at the desk where Matt was still almost-holding Foggy’s hand. The contact was warm, and comforting in a way he hadn’t thought possible. “I’ll think about it, Matt. Okay? And I mean it.”

Matt nodded, and he seemed to mean it, too. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a smile, and Foggy realized he’d been looking at it for a while now.

“And thank you for telling me.” He wasn’t sure it was enough to convey just how much it meant to him, but Matt looked touched.

“I wouldn’t worry about that one, pictures like that are common for property listings and ads. What you want to look for are documents like this.” Matt heard the slick flipping sound of Jessica handling a photograph. “See where the dates don’t make any sense?”

Karen tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and took the photo from Jess’ hand. Matt heard her bite her lip and he assumed she was studying it.

“You’re right. And that connects to this.” More rustling and the sound of Karen brandishing another piece of paper toward Jess, who hummed in agreement.

Matt pulled his attention back to the civil suit he was reading and skimmed his fingers over a few more lines. Nearby, Foggy was turning through papers, too. Reading, then circling and underlining, and then sticking the pen between his teeth when he went back to reading.

It was almost peaceful.

But Foggy was chewing on the end of his pen and bouncing his leg the way he always did when he was impatient. And Matt kept hearing the shift of Jess’ hair as she glanced over at him. Karen was the only one who seemed engaged in her work documenting Fisk’s activities.

It wasn’t until Foggy and Karen went out to pick up lunch that some of the tension broke.

Matt listened to Karen and Foggy fading farther away from the office and as soon as they left the building Jess got to her feet and approached his desk. He wondered if she’d been able to hear the front door, too.

“You need to tell Karen and Nelson.” Jess had a stack of papers and laid them out in front of him. “Whatever that warehouse is, she’s planning on opening it up as a gallery. These are the advertisements. There aren’t many and they’re small. They emphasize the gallery more than her name. But soon she’s going to be back in the public eye and you don’t want that.”

Despite not being able to feel the images, Matt reached out for them and ran his fingers over the surface while he turned Jess’ words over.

He and Jess had never explicitly talked about halting this part of the investigation, and Matt hadn’t been aware she was still watching Vanessa, especially because of the increased threat.

And she’d just yelled at him yesterday about not telling them, so apparently, she’d gotten invested along the way.

“Tell them what?” Matt asked. “Fisk is the one who made the first move here, they aren’t in danger because I threatened Vanessa. And if I do tell them, Foggy and Karen aren’t going to let me go after her.”

It wouldn’t do any good. The information didn’t put them in more danger and it wouldn’t protect them. The libel suit hadn’t been filed because of anything Matt had done and the loan had only resurfaced because of their work on the suit.

“They should have all the facts.”

“Why?”

Matt would have given anything for a split-second image of the expression on her face when she stayed silent. He imagined it was a glare because she was still tense and her posture was tight, like a coiled snake.

“So they know what to expect, Murdock.” And her voice didn’t sound angry. It was bare, unburdened by any emotion, but it still hit Matt like a blow to the chest.

“Because, judging by all of the shit Karen and I have found, Fisk has the ability to escalate beyond what’s happening now,” she continued. “Giving them context would maybe help them feel better, and we could all plan for the next round.”

Matt nodded to let her know he acknowledged her point. 

She sighed, “Look, I know it’s hard, but sometimes you have to talk to the people you love about stuff you don’t want to acknowledge. And sometimes that means letting them see your ugly side.”

Caught off guard, Matt tried to think of a way to reply, but then she went back to her desk and a squeak, the twin thumps of her boots on the surface and the sound of fluttering paper told Matt she’d gone back to work.

Foggy tried to pay attention to Karen as she swung her plastic bag of Chinese food and talked about the archives she and Jessica had found and looked through.

The weather was nice and being outside felt refreshing, but Foggy couldn’t appreciate any of it.

All he could think about was Matt’s argument for using Daredevil. He’d pulled out more stops this time around, but he was still being careful about it. It still didn’t feel like last time, or any of the other times he’d tried to push Foggy away.

And it could have been worse. Matt was always liable to dive into trouble, but he’d stopped at sitting on a bench, listening to criminals plan how to ruin their lives.

And something in Foggy’s gut told him that if he told Matt no, Matt would listen. Even though he was clearly agitated about not doing enough.

“Foggy, are you okay?”

“What could be wrong? It’s a beautiful day, I’m walking around with my amazing friend, I have some of New York’s finest Chinese food to look forward to,” he replied. He pushed the words out of his chest to make them brighter.

Karen didn’t seem to be illuminated. “Really? Because you just missed two opportunities to curse the public transit in New York.”

“Maybe I’m just not feeling the rage today,” he suggested. It was a lie, he was always raging at the public transit system, but Karen might not know that.

“Sure,” she said, not sounding it. She gave him a long look, and then came to some kind of decision where she just laced her free arm through Foggy’s and pushed their shoulders together. “I know things aren’t great, but we’re all doing it together and that’s something to celebrate,” she said.

Foggy had to admit that was a good point.

As they rounded the corner to get back to the office they ran into Brett, who looked upset.

“Hey, man,” Foggy called out.

Brett whirled toward him and his face tightened. “I was just coming by to see you and Murdock,” he said.

Foggy ignored the sinking feeling in his gut and threw an arm toward the door. “Great, we’re just getting back. You can walk up with us.”

They climbed the stairs in tense silence, and they found a wary Matt on the other side of the door to the office. Jessica, too, but she was almost always wary.

“Detective,” Matt acknowledged, and Foggy knew he was scanning all of their heartbeats, maybe their body language, and smelling whatever hormones matched with dread. 

Brett glanced around the room, and Foggy and Karen drifted over to stand by the other two. Foggy felt Matt nudge him with his arm and he smiled a little.

“I have some bad news about your case,” Brett started. “Fisk still isn’t moving and he’s not in contact with anyone. We’ve got officers on him 24/7 and we haven’t seen anything.”

Matt’s expression softened, and Foggy couldn’t help but agree. Fisk could easily have set this up beforehand, and knowing that he wasn’t doing anything new wasn’t that bad.

“But, Murdock, that Delaney guy you told me about was found dead in an alley.”

Matt went perfectly still, but his hands tightened into fists like a reflex. Despite the chill running down his spine, Foggy wanted to reach out and coax them open again, maybe leech some of the strength in them for himself.

“It’s pretty clear he was killed, but we’re looking into it. We should have more details, eventually,” Brett said.

No one said anything, and Foggy saw the same apprehension in Karen and Jessica. In fact, Jessica had her fists tightened, too. Karen just looked angry.

“Thanks for the updates Brett,” Foggy said, defaulting to managing the room’s emotions. “That’s going to be really helpful.”

Brett glanced around the room before settling on Foggy. “I don’t know what you guys are going to do,” his eyes slid over to Matt, “but I’ve got your back, up to a point. Don’t make us get involved.”

Matt nodded at him, and some of the horror in Foggy’s brain was replaced with shock, that really wasn’t unexpected.

“Alright. I’ll see you around, be careful. Let me know if I can help you with anything else.” Brett gave Foggy a nod and then he was through the office door.

He left them in silence, and Foggy felt like he had a buffet of topics to break it with.

He just didn’t feel the desire to pursue any of them.

“Brett knows about you?” Karen asked eventually, looking up at Matt from how she’d been staring at the floor.

Matt nodded again and all the stiffness melted away. He flowed onto his desktop and pointed his face straight ahead. “He figured it out. I don’t know when, but I’m not surprised.”

He sounded oddly normal for having a bombshell dropped on him, and Foggy wondered if he’d known this was going to happen. Then he shook his head at himself.

“Did we need Delaney for anything else?” Jessica asked.

Foggy missed Matt’s reply. Vaguely, he was aware he was pacing.

They’d all been aware this was a possibility. Fisk’s body count was too high for it to possibly matter to him anymore. He didn’t even think about it.

The cool voice of the new loan shark drifted into his head with its thinly veiled threats about how they’d always meant to try the deli and they might have to make an in-person call sometime.

Foggy’s thoughts almost took another turn down the spiral, but then a soft, solid hand landed on his shoulder and it pulled him through and out to the other side.

Before he even focused on Matt’s close, worried face, Foggy blurted out, “It’s time. Daredevil needs to get involved.”

Matt looked taken aback, and then even more concerned. He opened his mouth to say something, but Foggy shook his head.

“There’s no other way this gets solved, you’re right.” Foggy looked at Jessica and Karen, and then he focused back on Matt and he looked directly into the dark lenses.

Now the thought was out there, Foggy felt the panic pass over him. It was like the stillness right after a downpour. Even though the gutters were overflowing, Foggy’s thoughts weren’t falling over themselves anymore.

Clarity and peace.

Matt’s hand was still on his shoulder and Foggy had never been happier for it. He put his own on Matt’s, and then held onto his lapel with the other, and reveled in the steadiness he got from it.

“You’ve got it, buddy. I trust you. Do what you need to do.”

Matt looked like his own clouds were breaking up and he was also having a moment of clarity.

“I’ll go out tonight. No punching, just information-gathering.”

Foggy grinned because this was the first thing he’d been sure of in over 24 hours.

Matt wasted no time when he suited up and took to the rooftops that night. He’d devised a plan for how to pursue the system rising up to fill the void, and now he didn’t have to feel guilty or like he was hiding something.

Rosalie Carbone belonged to Harlem, but she’d made herself a headquarters in Hell’s Kitchen when Fisk was at-large and she’d never let it go.

Matt crashed through the door to her office.

The building was lightly staffed which he chalked up to a degree of comfort about Fisk being gone. But it had made Matt’s job of incapacitating them easier.

For her part, Carbone didn’t even flinch to see him. Matt heard her heart work just a little harder and he sensed the adrenaline slip into her system, but nothing else changed.

The sweet smell of alcohol drifted through the air and she straightened up at her desk. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I wasn’t expecting you to visit so soon,” she observed.

“I’m not here for you. I know Fisk is gathering forces again in Hell’s Kitchen. Why?” She laughed and planted her hands on the desk to rise from it.

“And what makes you think I’d tell you?”

“I have this,” Matt pulled a folded packet of papers from a pocket. It was a big bundle and he was glad to get rid of the pressure against his leg. “And I could easily give these plans to Luke Cage, but if you tell me what I want to know, I’ll keep them to myself.”

She crossed her arms. “But you New York heroes are all working together nowadays aren’t you? Why should I believe you won’t hand them over anyway?”

“Because I’ll give all of this back to you.” There was only one version of the plans and Carbone stood to lose — or gain — a lot of money from what was written. “Or I could tip off Luke Cage and the Bulletin. Your choice.”

Carbone didn’t believe him, and Matt had guessed she wouldn’t. But he was hoping she wasn’t one to take chances either. She’d worked with Fisk without any objection, after all.

“I’ll give you a tip then, in exchange for returning my property. How’s that for a deal, Devil?”

Matt inclined his head.

“You’re hunting the wrong Fisk.” She stalked closer and held a hand out for the plans, but Matt held them back.

“A _helpful_ tip,” he insisted.

“That’s all the help you need if you put a little thought into it. Exercise your brain like you do that body.” Then, faster than he expected, she snatched the packet out of his hands.

Matt grabbed her wrist before she could move away and she let out a hissing breath.

“I need more than that in exchange for those.”

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Stop looking at the prison. Now, I suggest you leave before I call reinforcements in. You wouldn’t have run into them on your way up.”

She could have been lying, but Matt knew he’d gotten all he could out of her.

At least Jessica had already worked out how to re-steal the plans. 

\-----

The second part of the plan was only a little more difficult, but Matt thought it was probably the most important one. He’d promised Foggy it wouldn’t come to a fight, and that he’d just use this opportunity to learn more about what the loan sharks were planning.

They’d decided that reconnaissance was the safest first step to handling them, and Matt hadn’t wanted to press his luck.

Foggy had meant it when he told Matt to use Daredevil, but he was nervous.

On his end, Matt wanted to do everything in his power to relieve those worries. He didn’t want Foggy to regret anything, and he wanted to prove that Foggy’s trust was safe with him. Matt wanted to be worthy of that trust more than anything else.

After all, they were working together again, consulting each other about every step forward, communicating about how to solve problems and talking about more than work. The physical affection had returned, they could joke about stupid things again, and the weight that used to hang from all of their words was gone.

They’d been fixed for long enough now that Matt couldn’t allow the possibility of going back.

Sometimes, he even caught signs that Foggy might feel the same way Matt did. Whether it was lingering contact or heavier flirting or just being more himself with Matt.

But that was something to address after all this was solved.

Now, Matt perked up as the sharks started talking about the Nelsons. There was a whole crowd of them, nine or so, but only a few were speaking. He’d found them by chance and had been listening for about half an hour.

“Yeah, so Fisk wants us to increase the pressure, to take it to another level or something.”

“Up the interest?”

“Maybe pay an in-person visit,” the first voice replied. Matt tightened his fist and closed his jaw. He did shift closer to quell some of the buzzing that kicked up under his skin, the itch to do something.

“I mean, I guess that fat loser who’s paying it won’t be able to put up much a fight,” the first voice continued. Matt wondered if he could be sainted for letting that slide.

“Ain’t he a lawyer or something?” A third voice joined the mix.

“Sure. One of the ones who got Fisk off the street the first time around. But doesn’t mean he can fight outside of the courtroom.” The second voice.

“Right, right. Whatever. Fisk just said she wanted the problem squared away. Probably because of what he did to her husband.”

Matt felt the knowledge hit him like a bucket of ice water. It shocked him enough that he didn’t notice the heartbeats spike or the assorted gasps. Or, at least, he didn’t notice them until it was too late.

He must have made himself visible. 

The first wave of the nine was on top of him and the world became a chorus of noise and movement, all painted beautifully by his radar.

As Matt fell into the fight, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts and kudos always appreciated. Here or over on [tumblr](https://booksandcoffeeandink.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the point of no return, all decisions are final and moving on is put to the test.

It was midday and Foggy was trying hard not to think about that as he walked to the office. Or about how his phone was silent and dark, despite Matt’s promise to text him when his surveillance was over.

Foggy decided not to dwell on it yet. That was the kind of thing Matt forgot, after all. And if it had been a long night it wasn’t unreasonable to think he might have passed out before he got a chance to write anything. 

Instead, Foggy unlocked the office and turned his attention to the stack of cases on his desk. Between him and Matt, they’d gotten through a few already and there was enough money to make another dent in the remaining debt.

The sharks had been clear they wanted all the money at the same time, so Foggy hadn’t made any payments yet, and he was starting to wonder if that would be a problem.

The office door opened and Foggy’s heart jumped when he looked, only to see Karen coming in. She took her sunglasses off and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Wow.”

“What?” Foggy protested.

“I just walked in on a full face of disappointment and you don’t even seem sorry,” she replied.

“I thought you were Matt,” he grumbled.

“I know,” she said. “For a second you looked like you’d seen a miracle. And you might always look like that when it comes to him, but I take it he hasn’t been in touch today?”

There was concern peeking out at the tail end of her words, but Foggy still wasn’t thinking about that.

“Besides, you knew I was coming in. You’re the one who texted me last night that we’re doing a half-day today.”

Foggy had thought to give Matt a late morning before they had to jump back into churning through legal work. In the brief Fisk respite when Foggy learned more about how Daredevil worked, he’d come to notice a pattern in Matt’s effectiveness as a lawyer-by-day.

It wasn’t too obvious a change, but enough that Foggy had started accommodating here and there.

“Sorry. For the record, I’m never disappointed to see you,” Foggy threw out to salvage the conversation. Karen just rolled her eyes and smiled at him fondly.

“Only when I’m not Matt.”

Foggy wanted to protest, but he knew she was probably right. He wasn’t sure it had always been true, but Matt had always been a fixture in his life, and after losing him twice Foggy was always happier to see him walking through a doorway.

He tried really hard not to remember staring at an empty doorway after essentially telling Matt to save the day. And he tried not to remember telling Matt that Daredevil was their only hope yesterday.

He tried to tell himself they weren’t the same thing.

“So!” Foggy pivoted away from that minefield and turned his attention back to the office. “Today we’re going to do the exciting work of deciding which case to take up next, and you’re going to keep piecing together what we do and don’t have for the libel case. Is Jess coming in?”

Karen squinted at him, but didn’t seem to be reading his thoughts. “I don’t know, she hasn’t told me yet. She said she might have another client soon, so that could be happening.”

“Cool, just us for now then.” And he flashed her a smile. Foggy did like the idea. Working with Karen was fun and she was the least distracting coworker he had. He was anticipating a quiet, productive work day and the prospect was exciting.

And then the phone rang.

Foggy picked it up like he would any phone call, and it took everything he had not to drop the receiver when he heard the cold, “Hello again, Mr. Nelson.”

He must have reacted somehow because Karen looked up sharply and was at his side in an instant. Without thinking, he tilted the receiver so she could listen in.

“I was just calling as a courtesy to inform you that we’ll have to raise the interest on your loan by twenty-to-thirty percent,” the voice said. And even though the voice wasn’t particularly quiet, it still felt like a hiss traveling down Foggy’s spine and spreading through his nervous system.

“This is on account of the late payments you have on the outstanding debt. I would have to recommend you get on top of this lest we have to pay you a visit.”

The line went dead then, and the only thing Foggy could think was how illegal those interest rates were.

“Foggy?” Karen’s soft, steeled voice pierced the haze and he looked up to see a protective gleam in her eyes. She touched him lightly on the shoulder and he came back to himself all at once.

“I…I think Matt needs to come back immediately,” he said, eyes falling to his friend’s desk. “And we may need to rethink our strategy going forward.”

“Yeah,” Karen squeezed his shoulder and moved closer. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Matt woke up to a sense of déjà vu and took a moment to take in everything that anchored him to the present.

The scars were the best sign. A quick skim of fingers showed him he still had everything he’d gotten after he met Benjamin Poindexter, and the tightness in his chest eased away.

For a moment, he thought he’d dreamed everything.

“Matthew.”

“Sister.” He pulled himself into a seat on the thin mattress despite the protest of the springs and his body.

“Your friend was kind enough to help you here. Bloody and barely conscious.” Her voice was tight and her movements were short as she cleaned up. She tried to hide that concern under a drier tone, but Matt heard it all the same. She was angry, and she’d been worried.

Matt focused on the new stitches, including replacements for those she’d given him a few nights ago.

He didn’t remember every second of the fight. But despite the large number, very few had actually known how to hold their own. The first few waves had been easy.

And now he remembered dragging himself away once it had been over, and leaning against a wall to catch his breath and take stock of his injuries. Matt had been sure then that he’d fractured something, but now that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Which friend?”

“I hadn’t met her before. She was brusque, not interested in chatting or telling me any more than how she’d found you passed out in an alley.”

“Jessica.” And now that he thought about it, he did pick up faint traces of her on his clothes — her shampoo, leather, alcohol. That was the least surprising answer, but he wondered how she’d known to bring him here.

“She was carrying you, all of you, and she said you’d slurred something about the orphanage when she picked you up.” Maggie was still angry, but the longer Matt was awake, the more relief crept into her voice.

“I don’t feel that bad,” he observed. Matt tested and he seemed to have the full range of motion in his limbs. His skin pulled where the stitches were, but that wasn’t too severe either, and there was only one new set. “You can save the veiled lecture.”

She was quiet, but turned toward him and Matt could tell she was glaring.

“I thought I told you not to be stupid.”

“You have no evidence that I was.”

“Nine against one, Matthew?”

She had a point, but, “Only a few of them actually knew what they were doing.”

Maggie’s hair bounced in the air, a sign she’d shaken her head, as she sighed and shoved an ice pack into his chest. She put a gentler hand against his cheek after a moment.

“Your stupidity aside, I’m glad you have friends taking care of you.”

He smiled a little as she moved away again.

Matt was still adjusting, but he decided he liked this side of Sister Maggie. At the same time she’d kept her distance when he was younger, she’d always expected more and pushed him harder than the other nuns had, or than she’d treated the other kids.

Matt had always assumed he’d done something to make her hate him, but now that he knew the truth, it meant something different.

It gave him more context for the fact that she’d often been the adult who bandaged him up as a kid, or who helped him with homework. She’d always been the one who didn’t treat him like glass, but still recognized that he needed accommodations and provided them where she could.

“I’m not letting you leave yet. You need to rest before you go,” Maggie said now, and Matt didn’t mind. In fact, last night had come back to him in full and Maggie was exactly who he wanted to be with. To his surprise.

“Can I bother you for advice in the meantime?” he asked.

She stopped and turned to consider him. 

“I’m not sure I’d like a hand in your next act of stupidity,” she said, but in a tone that suggested her eyebrows were raised. Foggy used that tone a lot, and he’d narrated it enough that Matt had come to associate the two.

He twisted his fingers into the fabric his pants because he was sure of this, and he didn’t know if he could stand being turned down.

“I’m trying not to be stupid,” he said, pulling at the fabric on his legs as an excuse not to show her his face.

Of course, it was possible she couldn’t help, and Matt knew he could handle the conversation he needed to have with Foggy.

But he really wanted guidance.

The silence stretched and Matt listened to her absently folding the same fabric over and over.

He couldn’t avoid telling Foggy about Vanessa now. Not when she was at the center of this, pulling the strings that cast their lives into chaos and put Foggy on the line.

The devil in his chest raged for Matt to go after her now. To destroy her chance of hurting Foggy.

But Matt would never be forgiven for that, and he wanted Foggy to know. Foggy needed to know.

Foggy didn’t make decisions without information, and this one belonged to him just as much as it did Matt.

The only problem was that he’d already kept it from him, and telling Foggy would pull him down further into the reality of Daredevil. And even after everything and despite what Foggy said, Matt was terrified he would walk away when his friend knew the full truth, and nothing but the truth.

He ducked his head.

“Please. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I don’t know what it is,” he pleaded.

Maggie’s heartbeat quickened and the fabric in her hands stilled. She came closer and all of the teasing was gone from her voice when she said, “Of course. Tell me how I can help.”

Foggy had stopped looking at the clock an hour ago, and yet he still knew how long Matt had been gone. The case file open in front of him wasn’t doing its job of distracting him, and all he had to do was review the facts and write a brief.

One of the files for the libel case was on the edge of his desk, and his eyes strayed toward it like some kind of forbidden fruit.

He tried forcing his attention back to the simple legal question in front of him, but it was pointless in the face of the complicated knot that represented the problem of too much power.

In the end, he caved.

The suit was right where they’d left it. A patchwork of evidence proving Karen had truth behind every defamatory statement, and she’d been writing for the public good. The documents backed some of it, Delaney’s written testimony filled other spots.

Privately, Foggy wished she’d had more on-the-record information, and that some of the specific claims didn’t stretch the evidence, and that she editorialized a little less. But Foggy thought they could make up for that.

Because the facts were there, and the truth was a solid defense.

Before putting the case down, Foggy had been mentally writing his opening statement and sketching out lines of questioning. Those wheels started turning again as he skimmed over the notes and his summary of their defense. Just as it was building steam and he started noting the broad strokes, he pulled the brake.

He closed the file, dropped his notepad, and he shoved it all into a drawer in his desk.

Even if they were actively working on that case it wouldn’t be making them money, and that was where his focus had to be.

Downstairs, the shop was running like nothing was wrong, and Foggy wondered if he was doing the right thing not bringing the loan back to his family. He didn’t know if it would change anything, especially when he told them he was already handling it.

They’d probably worry a little, but trust him to take care of it. And they’d go on doing what they always did in the meantime.

And then there was Matt, who _still_ hadn’t updated Foggy about anything.

The sound of vibrating wrenched him out of his thoughts and he scrambled for his phone in a bit of a daze.

Until he heard Karen speak, and pause, and say, “Oh thank God.”

And then, “Yeah, we’re just working over here. Trying not to worry. Thank you so much, Jess, I really appreciate it. Okay. Yeah, bye.”

Karen swept her hair behind her ear as she lowered her phone, and her face was glowing when she said, “Good news, Jess said Matt’s okay. He got a little roughed up last night and he told her to take him to the church. He’s with Sister Maggie.”

The orphanage was better than a Dumpster, but that didn’t ease Foggy’s mind. In fact, it created new problems.

He took a deep breath and waited until the worry dimmed to exhale.

“Great. That means he’s in good hands. I’m assuming his phone was a casualty?” Foggy was impressed by the even quality of his voice because he only had a string to hold onto it with.

Karen frowned and tipped her head like she was deciphering a government document. “Foggy, are you okay?”

He nodded and forced light into his voice.

“Yeah, he just said he wouldn’t get into a fight. Because we’re trying not to give away how much we know while we keep gathering information,” Foggy sighed. He probably should have expected this though. When had Matt ever avoided a fight?

“I doubt he gave away much, but letting them know that Daredevil’s batting for us isn’t going to help exactly,” Foggy looked back down at his desk and felt a renewed inspiration to write the brief.

Karen’s mouth tightened and she looked away from Foggy like she was steeling herself for something.

“You don’t know what happened,” she reasoned. “Why he got into a fight.”

Foggy sighed. “You’re right. I just,” he stopped and shook his head. “I’m just going to get back to work. It’s fine.”

Karen finally looked at him again and everything about her had sharpened. Including her voice. “No, it isn’t. God, Foggy, you’re freaking out, so you’re just putting your head down and hoping it doesn’t get worse. Eventually, you’re going to have to do more.”

“What would you suggest I do, Karen?” Foggy was suddenly exhausted by the conversation, but that didn’t stop the anger.

“This isn’t just about the loan,” she said. Then she sighed and sat down on Matt’s desk. “You’re worried, and you aren’t even doing anything about what’s causing it. You’re just waiting for it to be over.”

“Hey,” Foggy protested and he sat forward. “I am doing something. I’ve been doing things. We built up a defense for the libel suit and I’m taking care of this loan. I’m letting Matt do his thing, I’m letting you do yours and we brought Jess in to do hers. How is that not doing anything?”

“_You_ aren’t doing anything,” she insisted. Foggy gestured to the papers on his desk and opened his mouth to launch a repeat argument, but Karen rolled her eyes and moved ahead. “Yes, you’re doing legal work. Raising the money the sharks want from you. And you can’t do the things Matt can do. I know, Foggy.”

She sighed, and sounded aggravated. “And I know everyone’s in more danger. But I’m saying that you can do more about that than just trying to pull more money together. Or just stop choosing the path of least resistance.”

Foggy’s anger faded away and he sat back again. “It’s my family, Karen. I can’t just leave that up to chance.” _I’m not Matt_, was what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to articulate what he meant.

Matt was able to challenge fate and throw caution to the wind, and then improvise when things didn’t go his way. Foggy wanted actions he could count on working.

But maybe Karen was right. He was scrambling, and his reliable actions weren’t making him feel any better. What else would keep his family safe?

“Foggy, you don’t have to. You’re smart enough to do better than that,” Karen said.

He thought on that question for a second, and he realized he could literally get his family out of harm’s way. Foggy stood up from his desk at the rush of realization.

“Karen,” he looked up at her with eyes that were probably too wide. “You’re absolutely right.”

This loan was supposed to be impossible to pay off. Going to Marci had been a good idea, but that wasn’t the point. He was never going to be able to pay up in the amount of time they’d given him. He had to combat them on other fronts.

Karen smiled. “I like where this is going.”

“Yeah,” Foggy sat down and pulled his computer closer with one hand while he typed with the other. A few seconds later, Google fed him information about bus tickets into upstate New York. Three of them.

He stood up as their old printer whirred and got itself ready and he started making a mental list of all the things he needed to do now. Including talk to his family.

Karen looked downright proud.

“That’s everything?”

Maggie had sat down while Matt explained his situation and how he’d come to be there. Now they were both sitting, facing each other, and Matt felt better for having gotten some of the weight off his chest.

Sort of.

He nodded and folded his hands under his chin. His elbows dug into his thighs and he welcomed the light pain.

He felt guilty, too. Because he hadn’t outright lied to Foggy, but it felt like it. And it was beginning to look like Jess was right.

“And I know I need to tell him everything, but I’m worried he’ll hate me for it,” Matt confessed.

Maggie hummed. “Which part? Doing it or not telling him before now?” Matt just nodded because he couldn’t decide.

She was silent for a long moment and Matt tried to imagine what her face might look like. Nothing about her gave him a sense of what she was thinking.

“This whole time, I’ve been doing things his way,” Matt continued when she didn’t speak. “Fisk is targeting Foggy and his family with all of this, and he has a right to protect them the way he thinks is best. And this thing with Vanessa wasn’t supposed to happen at all, or come this close to touching him.”

The horror of finding out how deeply she was embedded in this, and that she felt comfortable enough to put herself there washed through his nervous system again. There were too many possible reasons for her to think that, and he couldn’t stop running them over in his mind.

Matt stood up and paced a little to contain the agitation, and he kept talking.

“And this has already been hard on him. He’s freaked out and he doesn’t want to take risks, and I’ve been trying to keep him from having to do that. But this terrifies me, and I’m not sure how much longer I can be strong for him.”

“Why?” Her voice was light, and Matt couldn’t read any emotion into it. No accusation or confusion. Just a simple inquiry.

His brain ran up to the truth and he sat down again. “Because I’m going to have do something direct now and it can’t be on his terms. And I don’t even know if he’ll take the news well, but I can’t let this go anymore. I hate myself for letting it get to this point anyway, but I’d also hate myself for going behind Foggy’s back to deal with it.”

“Matthew, breathe,” she leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder, and Matt noticed for the first time that his chest was tight. So he did what she said, and his next words were slower and heavier when they left his mouth.

“Foggy’s just now really coming around on what I do as Daredevil. Before, I know I pushed him into the deep end, so now I’m trying to take it at his pace, and work off of the response I get from him. But I don’t know if I can do that and do what I need to do to solve this problem at the same time.”

“What are you worried about? You’re a lawyer, surely you can explain that.”

Matt ducked his head and weighed whether he could explain it to her. After all, even she knew more about the lengths Daredevil went to.

“I don’t want him to see just how ugly this gets. He’s seen me after fights, but I don’t think he’s ever connected it to me doing the same thing to other people.”

Maggie hummed. “You think he won’t like that you threatened Vanessa for his and Karen’s sakes?”

“I think he’ll be horrified and angry, and he won’t be able to handle it. Or won’t want to anymore when he realizes what I really am.”

He expected a sarcastic comment, but instead Sister Maggie moved over so she was sitting beside him, and she brushed a hand over his hair. Matt stiffened for a second, but then he took it for the comfort it was meant to be.

“And you think he’ll leave you.” Her voice was soft, but conclusive, which made it sad.

Matt hated to admit it, knew he should have more faith, but his doubts had always been better than that.

“Oh, Matthew,” she breathed, full of sympathy, and she pulled him into a firmer hug. Matt let it happen and closed his eyes.

“It would destroy me,” he said quietly. And though the words were mostly lost to her shoulder, he knew she heard them. “It almost did last time. I can’t lose him again.” He didn’t need to elaborate. She’d been there at his lowest.

“You don’t think he loves you as much as you do him?”

Matt’s laugh broke before it even came out. “I don’t know if that’s enough for this.”

They didn’t say anything for a long time, and Matt took that opportunity to think about Foggy and how he could navigate this conversation.

Foggy loved him. Maybe the same way Matt loved him. But he’d said it for almost as long as they’d been friends, and Matt had always known that Foggy perked up when he was around or when he showed up. He could hear the affection in his voice, and he knew another wall had come down since they’d reunited.

Matt thought about Foggy’s offer to let him run around Central Park while he stood lookout. He thought about taking Foggy to all of his favorite rooftops, and the other places only Matt knew about.

It was one thing when it was just about his senses. Foggy had gotten over that quickly enough, and now he even seemed delighted to have Matt explain them.

But Daredevil was still a sore spot, even though they’d discussed it and Foggy seemed to finally understand the reality. But that Matt had used another person as insurance, and meant every word of that threat, that was something else.

Sister Maggie stirred against his side and he pulled away. “Matthew, how long have you known Mr. Nelson?” Her voice had changed. It was firmer, more like the nun he knew.

“Since law school,” he replied miserably.

“And in all that time, all those years, you don’t think he knows who you are?”

“Well I did spend most of that time lying to him.”

She tutted, and he could picture her giving him a wry look. It was so achingly reminiscent of when he was growing up that he was almost twelve years old again.

“You can’t lie about the big stuff, kid, not the core truths. Those come out one way or another over time. And if your Foggy is as good as you say he is, he knows you.”

There was certainty in her voice. Rock solid certainty like whenever she talked about God and what He wanted from His followers.

“How do you know?”

“Because he barged into the basement of a church when you were just getting stitches,” she said. “And then I watched him forgive you for not telling him something. And before that, he forgave you for stealing his wallet and trying to leave him behind.”

“This is a bigger deal than that.”

“Matthew, love is stronger than that. And that boy loves you.” Certainty. “You said you wanted advice, here’s what I have to offer: Explain this to him. Tell him what you need to do and why. And don’t just say what you think he wants to hear.”

And Matt knew she was right. He knew it was his only choice, so even though he felt like a boulder sat in his chest, he nodded and straightened his shoulders.

“I know how you love him, and I know it isn’t going to break you.”

It took a second for her words to sink in, but only a second. And then he couldn’t think of how to respond.

He aimed his eyes in her direction instead.

Her heartbeat hadn’t skipped or stuttered. She wasn’t speculating, she knew exactly what she talked about, and she meant what she said.

“‘There is no fear in love,’” she quoted. “’But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.’” It was a reminder, and more advice, but Matt was still trying to process what she’d said before.

“You don’t–you aren’t upset about that?” With Father Lantom, Matt had always guessed it wouldn’t have been an issue if he’d told him, but he hadn’t considered what Maggie might think.

“Love comes from God, Matthew. All love. ‘Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.’ How could I be upset? I’ve seen the way you two care for each other. It might not be easy, but I don’t think it’s as catastrophic as you do.”

Maggie’s faith made it easier for Matt to find his own. So even if he wasn’t certain, he was able to chip away at the boulder.

“I’d better go tell him then,” he said, standing up. And he meant everything because it was about time.

Foggy took a deep breath and a ball of unease that had been trapped in his chest loosened. After the better part of an hour, his family had finally listened to him, and they’d agreed to get out of the city for a few weeks.

His parents started talking about packing and Foggy left the front room to steady his thoughts and put them in order for whatever he had to do next.

“What the hell, Fogs?” 

Foggy almost swore because he’d known Theo followed him out, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be about this. 

“We need a vacation? Right now?” Theo demanded.

Foggy’s first reaction was to brush it off, and to lean harder into the weak excuse he’d given to convince his parents to take the tickets he offered them. But he found he didn’t have the energy for it.

“It’s the loan, Theo. Fisk sold it off before Tower took care of Red Lion and now the sharks are coming after me to get the money, plus the interest they added.”

Theo frowned. “They’re coming after you?”

“They gave me responsibility for it,” he clarified. “And they’re threatening you, Mom and Dad.”

“Wait, why?” His frown was quickly shifting away from confusion to concern.

“Because I swooped in to take care of it last time, Theo. And I’m the one who’s got a connection to Fisk, remember? It isn’t about the loan, it’s about me. Which is why you and Mom and Dad need to get out of the line of fire.”

Theo’s frown turned into indignation then, and maybe something protective. “Hell no, I’m not going to leave you alone to face down Fisk. That loan was my mistake.”

Foggy wished it were that easy, and he put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, tried to put as much confidence and reassurance in his voice as possible. “I won’t be alone. I’ve got Matt and Karen and Jessica Jones.” His mind tripped ahead a little to the question Theo was definitely going to ask. “Daredevil, too. I’ve–I mean, we’ve all got him. It’ll be okay.”

And thank God for theatre camp and law school.

Theo’s expression cleared, though he wasn’t fully convinced, but he leaned away, nodding a little. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be better once you three are out of the city. And I’ll call you when this is all over and done. Don’t come back until then. I don’t care what you have to tell Mom and Dad, just do it.”

Theo flashed a smile. “I’ll take care of them.”

Foggy patted him on the arm and watched him go back into the main room where they were all gathering their things so they could go pack. He felt a little better.

Sure, his stomach felt heavy knowing what he might be facing next. But he did have Karen, Jessica Jones and Matt on his side, so he really wouldn’t do it alone. There was no way they’d let him.

He turned to go back up the stairs to retrieve his work, because he had a shop to run now, too.

~~~~~~~

Foggy glanced at his newest text message. From Theo. An update about boarding the bus for upstate New York. They’d be there in a few hours and he’d found a place for them to stay. That was comforting at least.

It was almost five in the morning, and Foggy longed to go to sleep, but there was still so much to manage.

For now, he was alone in the shop, sitting at the counter with his cases and waiting for Matt to show up. This time, his eyes were glued to the clock.

Matt had finally reached out to say he was coming back, and Foggy should stay exactly where he was because he had something important to talk about.

Lucky for him, Foggy wasn’t going to be leaving for the foreseeable future.

The shop had been his for more than eight hours now and Foggy was coming to truly understand the bullet he’d dodged by going to Columbia. And he was wrestling with 18-year-old Foggy and his longstanding horror at the idea of running the shop.

He couldn’t help thinking that, in some ways, it had happened. The future everyone had predicted. Even though he knew it wasn’t really true.

The door front door opened, sticking as it did so, and Foggy felt his heartbeat kick up to a higher gear. Then it tripped when the person in the doorway wasn’t his best friend.

In fact, it was three people, and two were built like tanks. And Foggy knew immediately what the man in the middle would sound like.

He glanced at the clock again.

He’d missed his due date.

The trio came straight toward Foggy, but as they got closer the tanks peeled off to cover the flanks and to look around the shop.

Foggy waited for them to speak.

“Mr. Nelson, I thought my warning was clear,” the main man said. Just like over the phone, it was impossible to read his tone. It was just cool, a little rougher in person, but entirely devoid of emotion.

He was tall, and Foggy wouldn’t have pegged him for a loan shark, or even a criminal. There was something too clean-cut about him.

But he supposed that’s what happened when you dealt higher up. It wasn’t like Fisk was going to take just anyone, especially anyone who looked like they’d come from the street.

Foggy didn’t say anything. These were the people who’d threatened him. Threatened his family. Were being used to hobble his law practice and discredit the Bulletin. They were the ones who’d hurt Matt enough that he _still wasn’t here._

Instead, he clenched his hands into fists that he kept behind the counter.

And then the shop erupted into noise and fast-paced action, and Foggy clearly understood why the tanks had come along.

When they were done, he was surprised he hadn’t been touched. And surprised he hadn’t moved.

Instead, even though his hands were shaking and he could feel the adrenaline flowing through his system and trying to break him apart, he stared back at the main shark. He lifted his chin.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’ll take this message for what it is. You can’t hide behind Daredevil forever.”

And with that, they left the shop, crashing through the door.

Foggy took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Beside the fear — bone deep and like a block of ice — true, burning anger was rising up at the same time, licking the walls of his chest.

The closer he got to the office the more Matt slowed down, tuned in.

Something was wrong, but not right now, and it didn’t seem to be just one thing. But the stretch between him and the shop was unnaturally silent and he could smell the remnants of fear, strong, distinctive, like it had left a mark on the place.

Matt also picked up the smell of people he didn’t recognize, also running on adrenaline, but adrenaline being used for something else.

Everything was quiet now though, so Matt kept going.

Above all else, Foggy was okay. And he was still at the office, just like Matt had asked.

Cautiously, he pushed the shop door open. It was still early in the morning, far too soon for customers. But usually the Nelsons were awake and moving around to get ready.

Instead, it was silent but for Foggy’s heartbeat, which almost leapt out of his chest when Matt walked into view. Before he knew it, his arms were full and he barely felt the pressure against his new wounds because everything was drowned out by Foggy.

His shaky breath and pounding heartbeat and tight, tight arms.

Matt didn’t have a chance to settle into it before Foggy pushed him away to arm’s length and anchored his hands on Matt’s shoulders.

“What the hell, Murdock?” his question was more like a demand. “You look awful, and you said you weren’t going to do something that made this happen. And have you seriously been at the orphanage this whole time?”

His grip on Matt’s shoulders never lessened, and Matt was becoming increasingly aware of how tight it was.

“Do you want me to answer all of that at once?” he joked. But he realized it was a mistake because there was a thread of tension running through Foggy’s whole body now that he paid enough attention to notice it.

It reminded him of everything he had to unload.

“I, I didn’t mean to,” he said more seriously. “I found the sharks, and they saw me before I could get out of there.”

“Your eye…” Foggy trailed off, no doubt staring at the black eye Matt could feel. Maggie hadn’t told him how bad it looked. “You were at the orphanage for a long time.”

“They got some lucky shots in. But I’m okay, I promise. It was just exhaustion and there were a lot of them, and…” Matt faltered. He knew now was the time to come clean. “Can we sit down?”

Foggy’s heartbeat had settled, but now it thumped harder, and Matt could hear Foggy’s breath turn shallow. He wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, but he thought it might be a lie.

“Yeah sure,” Foggy finally said. Before Matt could move, Foggy reached out to hold his elbow and guided him to one of the barstools while he settled on another. When they were both sitting, his hand lingered for a few seconds longer.

Matt tipped his head, distracted and trying to understand what that meant. But Foggy’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s going on? What did you learn?” he asked.

After a deep breath, Matt wasn’t sure he would be able to do this. There was so much, and already, Matt was tempted to avoid it all. Every instinct he’d ever had screamed at him to keep it locked up.

So he knew he had to do it all at once. Right now.

“We’ve been looking for the wrong Fisk,” he said finally. Foggy stiffened and Matt smiled ruefully. He didn't have to say it, but he did anyway. "Vanessa's been leading in his place. And in that case, I know exactly where Fisk is and what she's doing."

Matt tightened the hand resting on the counter into a fist and he let Foggy sit with that information.

"What?" he asked weakly.

"Fisk got her a warehouse that she's opening up as an art gallery. That's where she's been. But she's also been leveraging his leftover connections and influence, and I assume she's trying to punish us for what we did to her husband. She found and sent the sharks and she's been directing the document thefts. It should be easy to find out if she’s behind the libel suit, but that could have been in place before all this.”

Matt kept his voice level, even as he listened to Foggy straighten from his slouch over the counter.

“I asked Jess to find her for me when she came on board, so I’ve known about her for a while. But last night Carbone told me she’s the Fisk pulling strings, and I’ve heard the sharks talking. Last night, they said she wanted them to put more pressure on the loan.”

Foggy’s heartbeat started to speed and he opened his mouth to say something, but Matt plowed forward. There was no way out of this but through, and he’d decided to go through everything. He just had to outrun the instinct to stop now.

“I’m going after her, Fogs. As soon as possible. She already has a head start, and too much power, and I can’t let her get away with it.” He swallowed because he didn’t want to know what was on the other side of what he had to say next. “I’m doing it even if you don’t agree.”

Matt felt weightless. He’d said part of it. The first part of what he thought would ruin everything.

“Matt,” Foggy’s voice was stretched thin and his whole body was tense. It was worse than if he’d started yelling.

But there was more.

Matt pushed against the counter top and away from the barstool and Foggy. He paced a few steps away and tried to calm his own heartbeat and paced back another few steps. Foggy followed him to his feet shortly after, unsteady and uncertain. Fresher stress hormones filled the air.

“And she’s coming after you and Karen for a reason. That night Fisk was arrested I almost killed him.”

Matt set his jaw before forcing the words forward. “He was on his knees in front of me, Foggy. I held his _head_ in my hands, ready to twist. And he told me to kill him. Told me that if I left him alive, he would come after Karen. And after you.”

Foggy had stopped breathing, and Matt barely paused to dwell on that.

His next breath scraped through his windpipe and his voice rushed out after it. “He threatened you both by name. And I told him if he tried, I would go after Vanessa and prove she told Poindexter to kill Ray.”

“We shook on it.” A twisted, painful smile took place on his mouth. He hadn’t believed that was the end of it, but he’d allowed himself to hope. “He told me it was a deal. He’d keep my secret, you two would be left alone, and I’d leave Vanessa alone.”

Matt tilted his chip up, squared his shoulders and let out a long breath. “So, I have to uphold my part of it. I’m going after her, and you can’t stop me, and I won’t rest or hold back until she’s rotting in prison herself.”

Foggy’s breath was less steady when he regained it, and he was holding perfectly still, frozen in place and breathing in Matt’s direction, probably staring. Matt pictured a horrified expression, but he told himself his imagination wasn’t the same thing as reality.

“But if you made the deal with Fisk, not her…” Foggy sounded dazed, and he was trying hard to control his breathing, Matt could hear how stilted it was.

“That’s not the point, Foggy,” he growled. “I can’t let her do this. I can’t let her get to you. Because you’re–” his voice broke, and the emotions Matt was trying so hard to hold back broke through. He was venturing into empty space, and his chest felt so light it was almost not there at all.

“You’re everything. And I won’t let her hurt you,” he said finally. Now that it had gone off the cliff it had been racing toward, his voice was quieter and calmer.

“And now you know how far I’ll go. I knew I couldn’t hide it from you forever, but, God, I never wanted you to know. I wouldn’t blame you for drawing the line here.”

He took a few steps closer, and Foggy didn’t move away. Matt refused to take that as a sign of anything, but he did take the opportunity to lift a hand to his face.

“Because I love you, Foggy. You’re the most important person in my life and I would never forgive myself if you got directly hurt by her and I could stop it.” Matt moved even closer and grabbed onto the front of Foggy’s jacket with his free hand.

“I love you so much, Fog. So much more than as my best friend.” Matt’s voice fell to a whisper and he leaned forward to press their foreheads together.

Foggy finally truly understood what Matt meant about hearing and interpreting heartbeats. It wasn’t Morse code, but Foggy could at least read what he was feeling in the sound.

Which was helpful, because he didn’t know how else to figure it out.

All of Matt’s words whirled through his head and drowned out the rest of the world. He was aware of Matt’s breath on his lips though, the way his suit wrinkled under Matt’s grip, and the gentler hand against his cheek.

Foggy lifted his hands up to Matt’s shoulders and pushed him out of his space. He saw the momentary flash of hurt, and the way Matt covered it up just as quickly, but Foggy had to think and he didn’t know where to start.

Couldn’t have figured it out if Matt stayed that close.

There was so much to think through.

But the piece that clamored for the most attention was the last part, followed very quickly by what came right before.

Matt’s voice, small and fragile like it had broken already, pulled him out of the spiral. “You can ask me anything, Fog.”

The sight of him, tucked into himself and face pointed vaguely to the floor, forced everything into place.

“Were you ever going to tell me this if she hadn’t come after us?”

Matt shook his head, but didn’t offer an explanation. Or look up.

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t think you would have to know. I hoped it would never come up.”

“Even though this is my _life_? Karen’s life? And it could have come down on the rest of my family?” Matt flinched, and Foggy was brutally glad for a second. Just because he understood didn’t mean he wasn’t angry.

He’d sent his family to upstate New York because loan sharks were coming after him. Because Vanessa Mari–Vanessa Fisk told them to.

Foggy looked at the overturned tables and smashed chairs, the broken glasses, the cracked display case. He was in harm’s way whether he knew who’d put him there or not.

“We could have been killed or hurt at any time and you weren’t even going to give me the chance to be ready for it?”

Matt looked up, but his face didn’t move in Foggy’s direction. “I’m sorry. I should have told you a long time ago or even just when the loan resurfaced.”

“I thought we said no more lying.”

Matt took a shuddering breath and his expression was miserable. “I thought you would leave if you knew what I really am. What I’m really like. I meant every single word of that threat back then, Foggy. And I mean it now.” His voice was distant, like it was coming out of a person who’d locked his emotions away in a box. Foggy recognized that voice. Viscerally.

It was the voice of a young man who worked hard for everything, only to constantly be told he wasn’t good enough and he couldn’t do it.

“I never wanted you to get hurt. By her or me. I wanted to take care of it before it came to that.”

Foggy took his own breath.

He knew that. He understood.

He’d sent his family to upstate New York because loan sharks were coming after him.

They didn’t know why. And he was angry, but it wasn’t at Matt, not fully. He remembered that.

Because he understood Matt, too. His best friend believed if he didn’t do everything he could to solve a problem, he wasn’t doing enough, and that one step out of line, in any direction, would bring the end of the world and a relationship. Foggy knew that. It was as fundamental to Matt as being a Murdock.

“Matty,” he said softly and the tension in Matt’s posture melted away. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re like?”

He’d always been protective, intensely so. And Foggy had glimpsed the anger throughout their years together. Maybe he hadn’t suspected the violence, but now it didn’t really seem so strange. Especially considering how it wasn’t the only thing Daredevil did.

Matt twitched. “This is different, Fog.”

Foggy shook his head and stepped closer. “It’s not. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t seen everything Daredevil does, I know who you are. And I know that fundamental thing doesn’t change when you wear a mask.”

Looking at him, still braced for something Foggy was never going to deliver, Foggy felt protective and bold. And he knew sometimes Matt had to be shown things rather than told.

He reached for Matt’s glasses, and Matt surprised him by ducking his head to let Foggy take them off.

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” he asked.

Matt frowned a little, but his nod was insistent and his eyes were big. “I have for a long time, just not always the way you did.”

Foggy smiled at that. Matt had a point, but Foggy’s meaning was changing, too.

“Matty, I couldn’t possibly hate you,” he said. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Matt’s. Simultaneously, he curved a hand around the back of his neck so he wouldn’t break it too soon.

But Foggy shouldn’t have worried.

Matt inhaled sharply, and then his lips parted as he pulled Foggy closer to him and sank into the kiss.

It was another kind of whirlwind.

A long time ago, Foggy had imagined what it might be like to kiss Matt. He’d stopped when he decided it was too embarrassing and, maybe, the way he felt about him—like he wanted to be around him all the time and tell him everything—was the way you were supposed to feel about the best friend you’d ever had.

But this was better than his imagination, and the way Matt responded was beyond. And even though he’d stopped imagining it, Foggy still felt like kissing Matt was the most natural thing for him to do. 

Foggy broke it, but he didn’t go far. Matt still looked impatient, and he chased after Foggy’s lips with a quiet grumble.

When he next had the opportunity, Foggy pulled away again. “Matty,” he mumbled. “We need to talk.”

“We’ve done enough talking,” Matt protested against his lips.

“No,” Foggy shook his head and this time Matt let him go farther. “We need to talk about what happens next. Because–”

Here Foggy swallowed because he didn’t really believe what he was going to say next, but it was important and he knew it was his only option.

“If I can’t stop you going after Vanessa, I’m going to make sure you have a plan.” Matt had gone still in Foggy’s arms, and he knew what was coming out of his mouth next, so he kept talking.

“And I’m not letting you do it alone. This is my fight, too, Matt, I’m playing a role.” The anger he’d felt right after the sharks left had been knocked to the side by Matt’s confession, but Foggy found it burning away in his chest again.

He welcomed the heat because it was the only way he’d be able to do this.

“I don’t know if you can sense it somehow, but the sharks paid a visit tonight and they trashed the shop.”

Matt pushed away from Foggy so he was frowning at him. Every line of his body was tense.

“What do you mean they paid a visit?” His voice was barely above a growl and Foggy had to ignore the way it made his skin shiver. But Matt’s nose was already working and he pivoted away from Foggy, tilting his head to adjust what he sensed.

The tension didn’t leave.

“What happened to your family?” From the tone of his voice, Foggy could imagine Matt in the mask.

“I sent them upstate and I told Theo not to come back until I said the coast was clear.” Matt nodded, business-like.

“That’s good.” He went silent and then he sighed and Daredevil melted out of his posture. He turned back to Foggy and his eyes were heavy.

“It’s going to be dangerous you know,” he warned. “More than we wanted this to get. But now that everything’s out there, and if we’re really going to pursue them, we can’t pull punches.”

Foggy swallowed and nodded even as his stomach twisted. Matt’s face changed then and he came closer, held onto Foggy’s upper arms. His expression was a little sad, a little fond, but overwhelmingly soft.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to make this okay, Foggy. And I trust you.”

That almost felt better than Matt saying he loved him.

“Thank you,” Foggy replied. He reached out for Matt’s elbow again because he really felt the need to hold on to some part of him, and he directed them back to the barstools. “Let’s figure this out.”

Matt woke up happy and more settled than he could remember being in years.

Everything around him smelled like Foggy and the man himself was pressed against him, breathing slow and steady.

Outside, the sun was going down, and Matt could just barely hear shops closing for the night. He sighed to himself and ran a light touch over the skin of Foggy’s face, and he tried to soak up as much of that warmth as he could.

He knew he would need it.

From all around the city, Matt heard clocks chiming the hour, and he pulled himself together. He allowed himself one more kiss, and a few more moments to dwell in this place he’d always wanted to be.

Then he climbed out of his bed — like he and Foggy had talked about — quickly got dressed, and made his way to the roof to get started on the plan they’d laid out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you like it?


	8. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelson and Murdock put an end to the Fisk empire. For good this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it turns out that writing about politics is an unpredictable and exhausting career choice

Matt counted each click of Vanessa’s heels as they tapped across the floor. Closer, then farther, echoing slightly off the walls because of the high ceilings.

He also counted heartbeats. Twenty-seven. Three others were a lot slower because he’d found them earlier. They were waking up now, but none were hurrying about it so he guessed they’d forgotten about the devil in their midst.

To himself, hidden away in a walkway near the ceiling, he smiled.

The bell over the door jingled again and Foggy looked up from the meat he was slicing — he could imagine his ma smacking him over the head — to get a glimpse of the newest customers. Each time, he tried to figure out if they were here because of the meat or the legal services, and so far, he’d been disappointed.

“Is that Foggy Nelson behind the counter?”

“Sure is, Mr. Kozak,” he replied. _It sure is._

He finished the sandwich in his hands, wrapped it and passed it over the counter. Then he stripped his gloves off his hands and walked over to greet the new person instead of taking the break his feet sorely needed. He resisted the urge to scratch his head and disturb the hair net.

“What can I get started for you?” he asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a fancy lawyer? Where’re your folks?”

“They’re out of town,” Foggy replied, willfully ignoring the first part.

“Ah, and here you are stuck behind the counter.”

Foggy told himself Mr. Kozak didn’t know what he was rubbing in Foggy’s face, and he simply smiled and gave a self-deprecating shrug.

So far, he’d been able to keep up with the shop and all its demands. He still remembered most of what he’d learned and done as a teenager. Theo might joke that he couldn’t make a proper sandwich to save his life, but Foggy was good enough to give the people what they wanted.

Still, he missed his law books and reading case notes. Most of the cases he had from Marci were still boring as hell, but far better than dealing with customers at a restaurant he’d spent his whole life leaving.

But another part of him did want to be here. Because by being here, he was keeping his family out of the crosshairs and he was giving Vanessa’s people something to watch.

He knew he was being watched, and he knew they’d noticed Matt’s disappearance.

And he knew he wasn’t the interesting one of the two of them, but he was a wild card they had to keep an eye on, and that meant fewer eyes pointing toward Matt.

“Being stuck would mean that I don’t want to be here,” Foggy replied easily. “And I don’t mind helping my family.” He pulled on a new pair of gloves.

“Now, what can I get you?”

They were setting up for the gallery opening. All day. It sounded like everything was in place, but Vanessa was waiting for one more piece to make it official.

Matt couldn’t get a sense of what it was or how long the wait would be, but he knew the guards were peeling away, taking up different positions. He knew his window of opportunity was getting smaller.

He and Foggy hadn’t quite figured out the best way to secure the confession, but Matt had some ideas. And Foggy wouldn’t like any of them, but they’d made a deal that they each got to handle their ends the way they saw fit.

So, Matt dropped down a level, soundless, and crept forward until he could take another ladder down. He kept one ear pointed toward Vanessa, though she still wasn’t talking about anything more than table arrangements.

He had a deadline though. Before she got on the subject of tables, Vanessa had mentioned when people would start arriving and when she hoped to open the doors.

Matt had until then. And Foggy was waiting in the wings, ready to be called into action whenever he was needed.

He waited for the room to clear out, and listened for the control panel that operated the doors. He also tried to get a sense of whether Foggy was okay.

No one on Vanessa’s crew was talking about the shop or the lawyer running it. But Matt could pick up on Foggy from the farthest edge of the farthest borough.

Right now, he was chatting with a couple who’d been his parents’ neighbors for twenty years.

Matt heard a clock chime the hour and gritted his teeth. He had only a few hours to get this done before it wasn’t private anymore. He needed a better plan.

There were only six other people on the floor with Vanessa, and of them, only two seemed to be a match for Matt. A whirring sound caught his attention, a few feet forward, but just right above the floor. He’d be able to hit it on his way down.

Sounded like a plan.

Foggy kept his eyes pointed forward as he gathered glasses and dishes into his arms. There was finally a lull in activity, and he was able to take advantage of the opportunity to get his eyes on the whole restaurant.

They were still there, in one of the corners near the door.

With a sinking feeling, he’d had a good idea about who they were when they walked in. But now, three hours and only one order later, he was sure.

The pair was good at their job. They didn’t call any real attention to themselves except by being there, but Foggy had been looking out specifically for people like them.

Every now and again they glanced at their phones and cast their eyes around the shop.

From behind the counter, Foggy watched them back and tried to read their body language for an update about the situation at headquarters. He wasn’t just providing a distraction from Matt.

Every time, he put his head back down and tried, in the interest of his sanity, not to imagine what Matt was doing.

Now that he was in motion, the Devil woke up.

Matt hit the control panel on his swing to the floor and he grinned when the doors came down, with a near-deafening crash. Especially with the echo. Because now that he was in motion, he was doing something.

Vanessa shouted when he dropped from above, but he ignored her in favor of the final men left standing. He let the stress of the last weeks fuel every spin and kick and punch. The sound of her racing heartbeat played alongside the grabs and twists. And the memory of Foggy sleeping next to him made Matt turn toward her when the others were finally on the ground.

Matt heard grinding gears as the doors locked themselves, and he sent up a quick word of thanks for embossed labels.

Vanessa had regained her cool by the time Matt stalked toward her, and though she matched his stride walking backwards she was by no means backing down.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” she said. Her voice was as warm as the first time they’d met, and Matt could hear how her words came out of a smiling mouth. “I would ask what finally brought you in, but I don’t think it’s why you’re here.”

“Did you forget our deal?” Matt’s voice leaked out of his throat, rough and laced with the anger crackling through his body.

“We don’t have a deal Mr. Murdock. You made that bargain with my husband.”

Matt didn’t respond to her mentioning his name. He could hear the cameras in the corners. He could also hear the breath in her nostrils that told him she wasn’t done.

“And you continued his empire,” he observed, low and leading. “And then expanded it.”

Another smile warmed her words. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

Matt smiled back, though his felt considerably sharper. They had the evidence for the police to launch an investigation, but an outright confession would end this sooner. And it was what she deserved. Matt was out of patience.

He stalked forward and she had nowhere to go with a stack of boxes behind her. “Don’t forget. I have evidence that you ordered Ray Nadeem’s death. I have evidence that your words are behind the death of Edmund Delaney, the theft of public records and the vandalism at Nelson’s Meats and threats made to the Nelson family.”

She tipped her face up and Matt barely reacted in time to her swiping for his face. For his mask.

“You aren’t your husband,” Matt said as he regained his ground.

“No,” Vanessa didn’t pursue him. “But I admire his methods.” She had a remote in her hand and the doors opened again.

More of them were in the shop.

Foggy watched three more approach the counter, and resisted the urge to hide behind it. He tried to loosen his shoulders and make it seem less like he was waiting for something violent to happen.

The worst part was that he couldn’t imagine why he needed this kind of scrutiny.

Foggy was handling meat, wiping down tables and counters, doing the dishes and performing customer service while his best friend — who was probably also the love of his life — journeyed into the lioness’s den. He was so boring.

“Welcome to Nelson’s Meats. How can I help you?” Foggy laid the warmth and charm on thick, the way that had always worked for corporate clients. He pulled out his most winning smile.

The guy in the front just barely sneered at him, which was encouraging. One of them looked somewhat charmed, and he was the only one who ordered something other than a simple sandwich.

It was possible that Vanessa had captured Matt and these guys had come to pick up a loose thread, but surely they’d have done it by now.

After all, seven of them were inside now.

Just to be sure, Foggy pulled out his phone and sent Jess an update. He thanked God for being able to convince Matt that their system for checking in should go both ways.

While he wrapped the sandwiches, Foggy looked over them again, spread through the restaurant, but all of them between him and the door. The door that led to the back, too. It was beside two tables, both occupied.

He glanced at the baseball bat he’d leaned behind the counter, but he was holding back thoughts of using it.

Nothing had happened yet.

And the most maddening part was that he didn’t know if Matt was in a similar situation.

The room was too loud to make sense of where the people were coming from, but Matt thought it was multiple directions.

Lucky for him, most weren’t much of a match. But they were all going for the mask.

Matt ducked another swipe and grabbed the outstretched arm, pulling and twisting to throw the man over his shoulder. He used the momentum from that to aim a kick to his left.

He felt sudden tension on the back of his head and jumped, lifting his chin to follow the tension and keep the mask over his face. Matt landed behind the man, drove an elbow into the back of his head.

Over the noise, he heard Vanessa’s heels again and he pulled himself out of the fray. And then above it, after another jump and a grab on the bottom railing of the walkway overhead.

Once there, he melted back into the shadows to catch his breath and his bearings.

Vanessa’s heels echoed, and he focused on them until they nearly dominated the soundscape. The sounds of the men fell away. 

“I’ve been reading about you, Mr. Daredevil,” she said. Her voice was too light, too calm, for what was going on around her. “And I must say that I admire your tenacity. Not many people would keep running into the same wall over and over.”

Matt tried to figure out how long he could make it before the mask came off. Statistically, the more times they tried, the greater the odds of it happening. If he could disable the cameras before then, though, it wouldn’t matter as much.

“And at such personal cost.” She was still talking.

“How many times have you lost everything? But you keep putting it on the line, like it doesn’t even matter to you.”

Matt stopped planning a course to the corners, and he was shocked enough to hear the remaining goons file out of the room.

“Right now, even, you’ve left your friends to fend for themselves. Because if you’re here, who’s protecting them?”

He shook his head, and responded. “What do they need protecting from?”

“You should know Mr. Daredevil. Aren’t you the one who prowls in the darkness?” Matt registered the taunting in her tone. He knew what she was doing.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t work.

“How long will it take for the darkness to touch your friends? Ms. Page, of course, has already done it, but Mr. Nelson…how much would it take for him?”

Matt gritted his teeth and smothered the impulse to reply. To tell her that maybe Foggy didn’t have blood on his hands, but he wasn’t a stranger to the darkness. As much as Foggy might hate it.

Last night, he hadn’t shied away from any of what Matt said he had to do. He’d volunteered to set himself up as bait and distraction. He’d insisted that he could handle it.

And his heartbeat…

His heartbeat had sounded like the same rhythm that played in the background of Matt’s life for years. And beside that was the anger that fueled Matt’s every step, sounding in Foggy’s chest.

Foggy knew about darkness.

“Although, at this point, it might just take them both outright,” Vanessa mused. “After all, Hell’s Kitchen is dark enough to swallow two people. Your thoughts, Daredevil?”

Matt breathed steadily through his mouth. Karen was with Jess, so nothing was going to touch her. But Foggy.

Matt cast his ears out. The devil in him settled when he heard Foggy’s heartbeat, but it only settled down to snarl.

Foggy was stressed at least, but not panicked. He’d gotten better at hiding his fear, but heartbeats were rebellious. And Matt tentatively trusted that Foggy would say something if the situation went downhill.

That was their agreement.

“Or will they give you up to avoid it?” she asked.

Matt almost laughed out loud. Of all the fears he had, the safety of his identity wasn’t one.

“They left you before. Clearly, there’s a breaking point.” Her voice came down hard on “breaking” and Matt reflexively clenched his fists.

Foggy had been sure last night. Karen had been ready to go directly after Vanessa when they told her, Jess had thrown herself in, too. And Foggy had been sure last night.

Matt wasn’t working on this alone.

He wouldn’t be alone again.

Foggy promised.

It was like she’d pulled a loose thread in the corner of his brain, and then she kept unwinding. The sound of her heels echoed through the room again and Matt realized they were still alone. And she kept walking until she was right beneath him.

Her heartbeat was slow, and her breaths drew steadily in and out of her chest. And she was still smiling.

“I didn’t only find your records. My husband told me stories, back when he was sure you weren’t a threat anymore. How long will it take, Mr. Murdock, for them to realize you aren’t the kind of person worth waiting for?” she asked. “Violent, ruthless, and as much a part of the darkness as any of us. Perhaps that’s how they get taken in by it.”

Matt got to his feet and tried to focus on anything other than her heartbeat, but that just meant hearing the thoughts in his head echo back her suggestion.

Foggy had said he knew who Matt was, but he still hadn’t seen the worst of what Matt dealt with. He knew the stories the news told or what Matt shared with him.

But he had to wonder if Foggy truly knew, and the first example that floated into his mind was being on his knees, in the middle of the street, half-deaf and in sharp, pulsing pain, begging God for forgiveness.

And he could feel Fisk’s skull between his hands. How easy it would have been to twist.

Sometimes it felt like Matt’s whole world was nothing but blood and pain and attempts to grasp vengeance.

Foggy didn’t deserve that. Maybe he was stupid enough to come back, but he was too smart to let Matt drag him down.

Vanessa’s voice trickled back into his consciousness.

“But, you’re here and I have all day and business to attend, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “My associates aren’t under the same kind of obligation, though.” 

The way she said it pulled Matt out of his head.

“What have you put aside to come after me? You and I both know the underbelly of Hell’s Kitchen. Just think of how many threats prowl around out there.”

Across town, Foggy’s heartbeat spiked. Every thought evaporated from Matt’s head as he listened in.

Foggy was babbling, and even though Matt heard every word, he couldn’t make sense of any of it. No part of it sounded like a request for help, and that was ultimately what Matt had to wait for.

_“No, Matt. You can’t just drop what you’re doing the second you think I’m in trouble,”_ he’d said last night. _“I’m _going _to be in trouble and you’ve got to let me handle it unless I say otherwise. You’d be able to hear it, right?”_

But what if he wasn’t able to say anything? Or he thought he had to try fighting for himself?

Foggy willed his hands to stay steady. He’d really thought he could handle this. For his family and Matt and, fuck it, for himself.

He had the bat, and he had Jessica Jones on speed dial and he could say the words and have the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen at his side.

But there were ten violent men in the shop he’d had to clean up on his own. They hadn’t done anything to him or the customers, and Foggy had let himself believe they weren’t here for him. It was easy to be brave when that was all he had to deal with, and now he had to wonder if proving he could do it was actually worth all this.

Then the last customer left and all of the chairs in the shop scraped against the floor at once.

Foggy felt his own heartbeat speed up and he was frozen as he watched them approach the counter. By instinct, he drifted toward the cash register and opened his mouth.

“Ready for your check?” his voice was bright and oblivious and Foggy honestly couldn’t tell if they bought it. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

His legs were shaking, subtly, and his hands ached against the counter because of the effort it took to keep him upright.

They leered at him, and they were all intimidating. Foggy knew his bat wouldn’t be a match for them, and his super-friends didn’t provide much protection when they wouldn’t get here before he was pulp. 

“You have one chance to tell us what you’re waiting for.”

He really didn’t have any options, but he did have a job to do here.

“Just you, my guy. We take all forms of payment. Except Discover. I know it’s annoying, but you know, small, independent businesses have to get by.”

Behind the counter, Foggy grabbed the bat because it made him feel better. Especially when one of the guys growled, and another slammed his fist against the counter.

He backed up, out of easy grabbing range, and forced more words past his constricting throat. “Can I assume you’re all together? Or are you going to make me charge you separately?”

In the background, he watched two of the guys peel away from the group and take up positions blocking the doors. For good measure, one of them flipped the OPEN sign around.

And Foggy had apparently underestimated grabbing range because one guy dragged him forward by the collar and hauled him out from behind the counter. The bat clattered to the floor.

He was directed to a chair, forced into it, and pinned back by two heavy hands on his shoulders.

Another guy swung a chair around across from Foggy and settled into it.

Foggy’s stomach sank, and it was joined by a rising, nauseous feeling. But he’d been expecting this for hours now, and even though he was terrified, he was prepared.

Mercifully, his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“We know you’re working with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And we know that he’s planning something. And you can tell us this way or the hard way what it is you’re doing. The devil’s already pinned down, so he won’t be doing you any favors.”

Foggy’s heart lurched, but he kept his cool. They could be lying. He couldn’t imagine he’d still be alone here if they weren’t.

“Honestly, nothing,” he said. “You guys have just been watching me run my family’s shop. And before you do anything rash, I have to tell you that I’m a lawyer, I know what you all look like and one of my friends is a badass detective who took an oath to put up with me for the rest of our lives.”

Foggy was aware of the biggest flaw in his argument, of course, and he’d spent hours crafting the perfect response.

“And not only does he also know what you all look like, so does my private investigator friend, and they’re both smart enough to understand what my sudden disappearance would mean. But, if you needed more incentive to leave me alone, I’m a defense attorney and I know New York’s laws like the back of my hand, and you guys have broken so many of them just today. I’m sure your records will turn up even more. But, I can make sure that doesn’t happen, and I can get you out of whatever deal you made with your current employer. You’ve just got to back off.”

His interrogator laughed. “Can’t imagine that you offer a better deal than the new kingpin, but nice try.” The hands on his shoulders tightened, and Foggy could see the guy gearing up to hit him, definitely in the face.

It landed at the same moment Jessica Jones kicked the door down behind him.

Foggy had grown up on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, so this wasn’t the first time. But it had been a long time and the shock of the bright sunspot of pain on his cheekbone and jaw took him by surprise.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Karen with her gun, standing beside Jess and pointing it at Vanessa’s men. They both looked pissed off.

“You good, Foggy?” Karen asked. Her eyes barely flicked over to him before they returned to the thugs in the shop.

“Never better.” His cheekbone was smarting and the pain was trailing up his temple and down his chin. He could imagine the bruise already.

“Let us have the lawyer or the blonde shoots,” Jess drawled. She stalked farther inside, leaving Karen behind in the doorway. Her hands were in her pockets and she looked bored.

Somehow, the hands on his shoulders tightened even more. So, Jess sighed and sauntered over to the chair. Foggy wasn’t dumb enough to think these people didn’t have guns, but the shop was on a busy street, and it wasn’t late enough for traffic to have died down.

These weren’t random thugs, the whole point of people like them was to go unnoticed

“I’d listen to her,” Foggy said, ignoring the sharp ache as fingertips dug into his bones. “We’re getting out of here one way or another and I’d think you’d want to spare yourselves.”

His phone buzzed again and Foggy looked up toward the windows at the front of the shop. He nodded, as big and obvious as he could, and they exploded in a shower of glass.

“NYPD! Get your hands up and your knees on the ground!”

In the chaos, a number of hands tightened around him, and Foggy squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head. One of those hands was more insistent, and a lot stronger, and it dragged him to his feet and out through the back. Foggy put up a weak fight until he caught sight of black hair.

“That was stupid as shit, Nelson,” Jess growled.

“But it all went according to plan,” Foggy countered. And ultimately, that’s what he was happy about. He needed to send Brett a fruit basket or something.

“That was too close, you should have called us in sooner,” Karen added, disapproving but unmistakably relieved. Her gun was tucked away in her purse again, and Foggy was glad for it.

“I had to keep them busy. And believing they were watching me for a reason,” he argued. “Besides, I had faith in you two.”

Jess just rolled her eyes and Karen looped her arm in his on the opposite side.

He was still shaking a little bit. The adrenaline of the moment sizzled through his veins and he could still feel his heartbeat in his throat. A large part of him wanted to insist on sitting down, just for a breath.

But that wasn’t how this stuff worked. That wasn’t this life he was choosing. So Foggy pressed on.

He checked the time again once they were in the alley behind the shop. He could still hear the commotion of the arrest, though Brett seemed to have calmed it, which would be helpful for what came next.

“Onto the next part of the plan then,” he said. The girls looked back at him with raised eyebrows, and he forgot they weren’t in on the whole thing. “Now we’re going to help Matt.”

The glass in the camera shattered when his club crashed into it. In midair, he twisted and fired for the other one and was congratulated by another rain of glass that made a bright, twinkling sound as it hit the hard floor.

It was only two cameras, but they were the two with the best view of where he was headed. They were small too, probably only noticeable because he could hear the apertures adjusting. It was over before Vanessa fully turned around.

“You’ve decided to throw it away again,” she observed. She didn’t sound bothered about the cameras, but Matt smiled.

Outside, a clock struck seven. Outside, a crowd was gathering.

“Do you really think you can take over for your husband?” Matt asked. Something had changed in him. He caught a hitch in her breath, and he stepped forward after it. “You captured some of his secret dealing and the intimidation. But do you think he’d ever find himself in this situation?”

Rather than reply, Vanessa backed up toward the controls for the doors. Before she could lift her arm for the button, Matt’s struck out for the biggest bone in her wrist.

She hissed in pain and drew back.

Matt wasn’t going to unleash the devil on her. As much as she deserved it, Vanessa didn’t have the brute strength of her husband to make up for the lack of training. It could never be a fair fight.

Besides, now she had no men to hide behind and nothing else to distract him.

“Mr. Murdock–”

“You’re out of time,” he growled over her. “By this point, you might as well give up. We have all the evidence we need, and you’re running out of resources to throw in our way. When we add it all up, it’s pretty clear who’s going to win.”

He still wanted a confession straight from her mouth. And he knew she wasn’t going to give it to him.

“You tried to break us and you failed.” His voice had dropped again, so it hissed through his teeth. The anger in his chest was rising, and each footstep forward met it.

Finally, her heart was beating harder.

“You forget, _Mr. Murdock_, that Hell’s Kitchen is bigger than you.” Her confidence hadn’t gone anywhere, and Matt suspected that was all she had.

“And I’m not working alone,” he told her.

Her laugh was a bark and she twisted sharply away from him, rounding a corner and moving back into the open air. A rustle of fabric told Matt she reached into a pocket. He couldn’t tell what she pulled out.

“I can change that,” she promised. “I’m not as blind as you want to think me.”

Matt heard the sound of a quiet ringing, and something about her tone of voice held him back.

He expanded his senses again to about the distance of the shop. He listened for Foggy and only heard scattered yelling, Brett’s voice, people being forced outside and into waiting vehicles. But no Foggy.

Matt instantly sharpened, and he almost charged her, fair fight be damned, but he stopped. And he listened.

On the other end of Vanessa’s phone, no one picked up, and Matt could imagine why.

Which meant…

“I take it your personal murderers won’t be doing their jobs,” he observed. Vanessa’s heartrate had climbed another few inches higher. It was almost to the tipping point.

“I have other options,” she hissed. “Other people. I’ll find other opportunities. And I can put them anywhere.”

The emptiness in her voice reminded him, finally, of Fisk. But Wilson ran hot, fire in his voice and his muscles and in every violent impulse he held back. Matt had sometimes felt the pure energy radiating off him, and wondered if that was actually his enhancement.

Vanessa was cold, and though Matt knew about the blood on her hands, this was the first time it struck him that she ordered people’s deaths. He tuned in to her heartbeat and only heard an echo of the conviction.

“Not,” he gritted out, stalking forward again, “if I have anything to do with it.”

Matt had to keep her as far away from his friends as possible.

He backed her into the corner, and faster than she could react, snatched the phone from her hand. At the same time, he grabbed that wrist and pulled it around her back. With his other arm, he held her hard against his chest.

She kicked and struggled, no doubt using self-defense moves she’d learned simply because she was a woman in the big city. Matt couldn’t tell if Fisk had set her up with specialized lessons.

It didn’t matter. He was better, and he would hold onto her for as long as he needed.

“It’s over,” he growled. “You’re finished. And this time, I’m not letting you off. Every single thing you did, or ordered, I have evidence. I know that you bought other crime bosses in the city. I know you’ve recruited and commissioned the homeless and runaways. I know about your connections to the black market and to predatory lending. I know about the men you’ve ordered killed, and if there are more, I’ll find them.

“Earlier, you said you admired my tenacity. I’m not going to stop, and I’m not going to let you get away with threatening my life and the people in it.”

And then, Matt was subject to a miracle.

He thought he’d heard it before, but in the chaos, he hadn’t realized how close they were. But just outside, three familiar breathing patterns and combined scents caught his attention.

In fact, one was closer than the others.

“Ms. Fisk,” Karen said. “Can I get a quote from you about financing loan sharks to attack a local business? Or about where you got some of the money to host this gallery opening?”

Matt heard her walk farther into the room. There was a waver in her voice, but it was buried under her conviction.

Behind her were Foggy and Jess. He didn’t think they were visible because Vanessa’s attention transferred easily to Karen from Matt. He took the chance to fade into the back wall.

They were alive, and they’d come for him. To stand with him.

“This is private property, so I’m going to have to insist you leave.” Despite her efforts at calm, Vanessa’s voice was ragged and she was still breathing hard, though she was quickly wrestling it under control. Matt imagined she had a pleasant look on her face, but he could also hear how stiff she held herself.

“Matt.” Foggy’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Did you get the confession?”

He assumed Foggy could see him and shook his head. Foggy made a grumbled, considering sound. “How can we help?”

As a knee jerk reaction, Matt rejected the idea. This was dangerous and it was stupid that they were even here. That Foggy even wanted to do it.

But he did mean the offer, and Matt remembered his Foggy was different now from the one he’d known for so long. And he remembered that stupidity was something he loved.

He held up a hand and listened to Karen explain that, because this was a public art gallery, the First Amendment protected her newsgathering here.

“I’m only asking for a comment,” Karen finished. “I have some pretty damning information and I wanted to get your response to it.” Her phone was in her hand, but Matt couldn’t tell what she was doing. He assumed recording.

“I have no idea–”

A smile slipped onto Matt’s face and he prowled back into sight. The sharp sound of Vanessa’s breath catching welcomed him.

“I do,” he supplied. She stiffened and he tipped his head to focus in on her. “You know I have proof you ordered Ray Nadeem’s death. And I have proof you ordered Edmund Delaney’s as well. Though you didn’t get to him before he wrote an affidavit standing behind the reporting Ms. Page did. I believe Ms. Jones has all of that.”

Vanessa’s laugh was harsh, grating and slightly unstable. “That’s it?” Her voice broke apart at the edges and Matt could smell the stress and desperation pouring through her vascular system. He dared to hope. “What happened to all your promises you made me, Daredevil? All those threats about bringing me to account for my sins? Are you truly good for your word?”

“He is.” Foggy, stepping forward so he was visible. Matt knew because Vanessa caught her breath.

“You see, we have documentation. For everything.”

Matt thought he was the only one who heard the shaking in Foggy’s voice. And even then, it was almost drowned out by Vanessa’s reaction.

She laughed again. “And what do you think is _everything_?”

“The crime syndicate, theft of public documents, employing and encouraging predatory lenders, misuse of public funds, First Amendment violations, everything,” Foggy asserted. “If I were you, I’d believe him. And I’d listen to whatever he has to say next.” He nodded in Matt’s direction, granting him the floor.

Jess was on the outskirts of the room, near the door and Matt heard the metal of the handle creak in her grip. “Hurry it up, Murdock,” she muttered. “Get her going.”

Outside, the crowd was louder and restless. A number were asking for confirmation that the gallery was meant to be open by now. Others were complaining. Still, everyone was clustered, just on the other side.

A few thoughts clicked into place until he had an idea. It was over now.

“Ms. Page, can you record a video?”

He wasn’t sure if she knew what he was going for, but Foggy clearly did. He was quiet, but Matt could hear and feel his hands moving through the air.

And that let Vanessa get closer.

The control they had over the room evaporated in a handful of chaotic seconds.

It ended with Vanessa clutching the mask and Matt with messy, rumpled hair. A moment later, she drove a hard kick to the back of his knees.

Foggy barely had time to think before the surprised look on Matt’s face disappeared and he twisted as he went down to land on his feet.

Before she could process anything, Matt was up again.

“Don’t stop,” he growled toward Karen. She seemed surprised, but she didn’t lower her camera, and it was then that Foggy noticed Matt kept his face carefully turned away from her.

Even as he grabbed Vanessa’s shoulder, avoiding an open-hand snatch for his face. Instead he ducked around her and grabbed for her arms, wrenching them behind her back as she kicked out against his knees again.

And without the mask, Foggy could see it all. He’d always thought it was a stupid measure, but now he realized just how much the scrap of fabric hid. Now he saw how Matt’s face was set while he gritted his teeth and maneuvered around Vanessa.

Foggy always imagined it would reflect the violence, but instead he just saw grim determination and a savage kind of furious excitement. The same way he looked when he chased down precedent.

Foggy’s observation and revelation took place in the space of a few seconds, and then he was thrown back into the room where Jess had abandoned her post by the door.

Without thinking, Foggy went to take it up.

The door was heavier than anything, but he was the only person available for the job. So he set to it.

Vanessa was stronger when it mattered. Matt could sense the adrenaline flooding through her veins until it filled her muscles. The smell was so strong he could taste it.

But she turned into an iron bar against him, and there was real strength behind the fists she threw his way and how she grabbed and pulled at his clothes. It was just enough for her to evade his grasp.

Wrestling her wouldn’t have been so hard if he wasn’t avoiding Karen and her camera at the same time.

Matt wanted all of this recorded. People in the neighborhood still had a high opinion of Daredevil. That he was fighting the woman married to Wilson Fisk would only help their case against her.

Vanessa stomped on the inside of his foot and he tightened his grip around her upper arms, pinned them harder to her back. He needed that crowd outside the doors to make it truly public.

A hard shoulder crashed into him, and in a whiff of shampoo and whiskey Jess shoved him to the side.

If Vanessa had turned into iron, Jess was pure steel.

Even fighting beside her, Matt had never noticed how her muscles tensed, how they knit together tighter than anyone he’d come across.

“Get out of here,” she hissed at him. “I’ve got this covered.”

“The door–” but Matt cut himself off.

He’d lost track of Foggy in the scuffle, but he picked him up again by the door, struggling but trying to haul it up. It only rose a few inches at a time and he grunted at the effort. But it was working. Steadily and slowly.

Matt ducked into the shadow of the catwalk. Meanwhile, Jess barely broke a sweat as she restrained Vanessa. She also handled her more roughly than Matt was willing to, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered.

“Nelson!” she barked at the same time Karen’s exasperated voice asked, “Foggy, do you need help?”

Matt slunk along the wall, sticking to the shadows because he needed to be out of sight as soon as the door opened. But he got close.

He could hear the way Foggy’s muscles strained, including muscles he rarely used. His heart was beating harder and his jaw was tight with the effort.

Matt got a little closer.

“When this is open, I need to be out of sight. You deliver the closing statement,” he whispered so the camera wouldn’t pick up the echo of his voice. There was more he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time and the pounding of Foggy’s heart and the sweat collecting around his hairline told him he knew that, too.

He nodded shortly. “Step back, or do whatever you’re going to,” he said through gritted teeth.

Matt did, and with a final shove, the door rattled the last few feet up on its tracks. Matt heard all the grooves clicking into place, almost buried under the sudden noise from the crowd.

People flooded into the warehouse once the door opened, and they stopped almost as quickly.

Foggy didn’t blame them.

Vanessa’s hair was no longer straight and smooth, her clothes were wrinkled and unkempt and she was being held by a scowling, unamused Jessica Jones.

Out of the corner of his eye, Foggy saw a shadow move and he glanced over at where Karen was still doing camerawork. He took a deep breath, straightened his sweater and squared his shoulders.

“Ladies and gentleman, I’m sorry to alarm you. But as you can see, there’s some superhero crime busting going on here.”

Karen shifted the camera to include him in the frame, which didn’t help his heartrate.

“And for good reason. Ms. Fisk here has lived up to her married name by taking over her husband’s options and expanding them,” Foggy felt the case building in his head and he thought the words falling into place could carry him to the top.

There was a murmuring from the audience of Vanessa’s peers and it provided some more fuel to the words.

“You might remember what he did? Ms. Fisk has been rebuilding the criminal empire by offering deals to groups and organizations that specialize in illegal operations like predatory lenders, you might know them as loan sharks. Those groups are also involved in a number of your regular drug and human trafficking crimes, too.”

Foggy knew that some of the people here probably knew all of this and had some of their own money tangled into the web, but the sound level rose to muttering and getting that transformation was all that really mattered to him right now.

“And you can’t forget the destruction of government records by removing and hiding them from the public. Those thefts also contribute to her larger attempt to obstruct justice because those records are evidence for a libel case brought against the New York Bulletin for previous coverage of crimes committed by Mr. Wilson Fisk.”

Foggy swept his gaze over the audience, now humming with quiet comments. His grip on their attention had slipped, which was just as well because he was almost done with it.

His eyes landed on a new figure in the doorway and Foggy made a mental note to find the fanciest fruit bouquet company in the city and send them to the whole precinct.

“Mr. Nelson, do you need some help in there?” Brett was practically gleeful, and Foggy knew that meant he’d come a lot closer to death earlier in the shop than he’d like to think. But this mood worked for him.

“Not at all, Detective. I’ll let you take over from here.”

Foggy ducked to the side and gestured toward Vanessa who was glaring pure hatred at him. He felt a shiver of fear run down his spine, but it slipped to the back of his mind when he followed that shadow he’d seen a few minutes ago.

The old architecture of the warehouse created an area like a separate room and Foggy found Matt waiting there.

It was mostly dark, but enough light from the street outside filtered in and highlighted his silhouette. He was all strong, solid lines and he held himself like he was poised for action at any moment. Foggy recognized how his head was tilted down to listen to the world around him.

And he was so relieved, it drowned out the feeling of terror from earlier. In seconds, Foggy was across the floor and his arms were curling around the strong lines of Matt’s shoulders.

In an instant, Matt melted around him.

“Enough?” Foggy asked, pulling Matt closer.

He felt Matt nod against his shoulder. “You did great, Fogs. Before that, too. I’m so proud of you.”

Foggy stilled. That wasn’t the kind of thing Matt said. He laughed a little. “Well I should get used to it, right? This is my new life as a superhero’s significant other.”

Matt pulled away from him. He was confused-frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Now that we’re together, I’m going to be a target, so I should start getting ready for this.”

Then Matt upset-frowned. “No, Foggy, you don’t need to do that. This–I’m glad you embrace Daredevil, but you don’t have to adopt the life like I have.”

“Buddy, I don’t think I have a choice,” Foggy laughed. There was a sliver of unease building in the corner of his chest and he saw the same thing growing on Matt’s face.

“Of course you have a choice. Foggy, I’m not going to make you follow me down this road.”

Foggy’s stomach sank and Matt twitched, so he assumed his body actually did something Matt could sense. “Don’t you fucking dare, Murdock,” he choked. “You don’t get to leave me.”

“What? No!” Matt moved closer and settled his hands back on Foggy’s arms. He instantly looked more grounded. “I’m not leaving, but what I’m saying is that I won’t let this life take you down. And you never have to go farther than you want to, or cut off your real feelings for the sake of putting on a brave face. I’m not expecting you to make sacrifices.”

Foggy’s heartrate settled, but he still looked at his idiot and wanted to strangle him.

“Matty, you’re not dragging me anywhere I don’t want to go or making me do anything I don’t want to. And I’m not going to let you go down, either. I’m staying right here, so we’ll just have to keep each other floating.”

Matt stilled, and his jaw went loose. Foggy could tell the wheels in his brain were turning, but not the direction.

Foggy let his own turn.

He had a choice. He didn’t have to discard everything he’d worked for to keep up with Matt. Foggy looked at him now and realized he’d been willing to do it, so willing that the call to stand down was still sinking in.

The choice was as obvious now as it had ever been.

Foggy’s words echoed in his head, and Matt tried to wrap it around the idea that he’d promised to be by his side, no matter what.

It seemed too good to be true, but Matt _knew_ it was. How many times had they talked about it?

He realized he’d just never allowed himself to think of it as a reality.

Vanessa’s words from earlier trickled in to poison the promise Foggy made. Matt pushed them aside. She was wrong. She had to be.

They might be fighting against the odds, but they were fighting together. That much was clear. Foggy was here, after all. Here, despite it all.

No important blood had spilled today, but this was all still ugly. And Foggy was clearly capable of holding his own.

And he was still here.

Foggy stepped forward and hugged him again, and barely a second passed before Matt hugged him back. That feeling, of having Foggy in his arms while Vanessa was arrested in the other room, was something he couldn’t have imagined when this all started.

All he could do was trust. Foggy and himself.

Speaking of the arrest, Brett was wrapping it up and Matt had no doubt he, Jess and Karen wanted to glimpse Foggy and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen before Vanessa was escorted to the car. But they were busy. 

Foggy’s hand came up to the back of his head, his fingers slipping into his hair, and Matt felt Foggy’s heartbeat thud against his. He caught a whiff of his shampoo, too, and felt a deep, shuddery breath float over his shoulder and mix into the stale air around them. From the sound of it, it came out of a smiling mouth.

When he spoke again, Foggy’s voice was hushed, and his lips brushed against Matt’s hair. “We did it, Matty.” He tightened his arms. “We did it. We won.”

Matt closed his eyes and took in every sensation of Foggy he could. The relief and the victory stuck out.

“Nelson and Murdock,” he confirmed.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Happy days are here again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XIky4mHCt4)
> 
> [The skies above are clear again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XIky4mHCt4)
> 
> [So let's sing a song of cheer again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XIky4mHCt4)
> 
> [Happy days are here again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XIky4mHCt4)

The aftermath wasn’t as hard as Matt had expected.

When he was sure Brett had the situation handled, everything Matt had been holding off during his confrontation with Vanessa trickled back to the surface of his brain. It didn’t threaten to overwhelm him, but it did weigh down some of the elation.

He waved off Karen’s suggestion they go out for a celebratory drink and, after a quiet moment Matt knew was spent watching him, Foggy did the same.

Instead, Matt took him home and reminded himself they were both okay.

When they were eating leftovers on the couch at 1 a.m. Matt finally felt settled. Now his doubts were replaced by the growing realization that they were through the fire and they’d only come out singed.

“Hey Matty?” Foggy asked. Matt made clear he was listening. After a moment, Foggy reached out and took his hand and Matt paid just a little more attention.

“I’m more than willing to fight for you. No matter what that fight looks like. Like what happened in the shop today; I would do that over and over again. I’m not afraid of this choice and I know what I’m choosing.” He paused and his voice was even softer when he continued. “I know I’m probably going to have to say that a few times, so I want you to know that I’ll repeat myself over and over as long as you need it.”

Foggy had given him a rundown of distracting the squad of loan sharks, filling in the blanks Matt had heard snippets of. He was still impressed by Foggy’s courage, and he wondered when he’d transformed all the way into having it. 

But the more he thought about it, he understood the foundation had always been there, forged during law school, and it had been building for a long time. More rapidly in the past few months. It wasn’t just courage to defend the poor against the powerful anymore.

Matt swallowed and tightened the hand holding Foggy’s.

He was telling the truth.

The promises had never been part of the heat of the moment.

Matt wasn’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was the fact that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sitting together in the early hours of the morning, with food, when they absolutely should have been sleeping was the definition of their friendship.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever shake the voice in the back of his head telling him he’d always end up alone. It was probably buried too deep. But Matt realized he could ignore it.

He smiled at Foggy and kissed him. He moved a little beyond the need to trust and finally let himself believe.

Ellison paid them a visit a week after.

The day was slow, and Foggy had finished another pile of paperwork, which polished off the last of the cases Marci had gifted them.

And everything was as it should have been.

Downstairs, he could hear the bell on the door and the sound of orders being shouted across the kitchen. Every now and again, the clatter of plates was loud enough to make it up the stairs, but his family’s heavy footsteps and their voices carrying across the restaurant were easy to hear.

It hadn’t taken long for business to pick back up, and Foggy at least hadn’t driven all of the customers away with his brief stint as the owner. That meant traffic was steady, and relentless, like the brief vacation of the Nelsons lit a fire under everyone’s asses.

The bustle and commotion were instrumental to one of the most consistent soundtracks of Foggy’s life, and it soothed some of the more stuck-on bits of leftover unease.

Across the room, Karen and Jess were comparing notes for another case they’d started working together. It somehow connected to Jess’ PI business, much more than the law firm, but lately Jess had been dropping by their office every so often.

Just as often, Matt was discussing Daredevil business with her. From what Foggy could gather, it was arms trafficking now, but the organization was too smooth and efficient to be running through the regular low-level gangs.

At the next desk over, Matt was listening to case notes and tapping a pen, then he perked up and seemed to focus on something beyond his earbuds. He hit the spacebar seconds later.

“It’s officially done. They dropped the suit,” Ellison announced. He left the door hanging open behind him, and didn’t seem bothered to correct that.

Karen cheered and Foggy got to his feet to shake Ellison’s hand, followed closely by Matt.

“That’s good to hear, congratulations.” Matt’s voice was warm and his smile wide. And Foggy wondered if he was the only one who caught the savage glint.

Matt had spent the past week cleaning up the remnants of the latest Fisk empire, rooting out as many seeds as he could find. He was still riding the wave of victory, and Foggy loved seeing him so happy and motivated.

He got hurt less when he was motivated, and Foggy got to have a better night.

They weren’t any shorter though. Foggy would have waited up for him anyway, but he’d also taken a few more night shifts downstairs so Theo could do well in his classes.

Something strange had happened regarding his feelings about the shop. He’d never felt a connection to the family business, but after defending it, he felt like he’d claimed some of the ownership.

Foggy glanced at Matt, who was still charming Ellison before dropping the news about the final bill.

The shop wasn’t quite the neighborhood, and he still didn’t feel the call to don anything other than his normal suits, but he thought the piece of him connected to the family business probably matched the side of Matt that refused to let anything happen to Hell’s Kitchen.

And that thought made Foggy so ridiculously happy that it must have registered somehow in Matt’s super senses.

When he turned to let Foggy see his expression, bemused and curious, Foggy just grinned.

“Don’t worry about it, Devilboy,” he whispered. “Just get us our money.”

It was hard to tell, but Foggy was sure Matt rolled his eyes as he turned back to Ellison, a half-smile on his own face.

Matt’s knuckles stung, he had a slight limp and he knew his ribs were bruised on at least one side. But he wasn’t focused on that. Instead, he was reliving the crunch of a loan shark’s nose breaking under his elbow and the snap of another one’s wrist, the pop of a knee and a sprained ankle, the groans of pain, the thud, thud, thudding of panicked, adrenaline-filled heartbeats.

He’d finished the last of them, and he’d convinced their leader that pursuing the loan was never going to get him what he wanted. The newest kingpin wasn’t worth the investment while behind bars.

Matt knew better than to believe in happy endings. Vanessa had been right about him knowing the darkness that gathered in Hell’s Kitchen. There was always going to be more to fight back.

But she’d done what everyone did, and Matt had responded to being underestimated the way he always did.

And he wasn’t dragging anyone down.

Foggy did keep reassuring him, but Matt also had evidence for it, and that was what really calmed his disbelieving heart.

“You look like a mess,” Foggy observed, and though he meant it, he only sounded unhappy about the fact. Not alarmed.

“Nothing I can’t fix with ice and a shower,” Matt replied, listening to Foggy get up from the couch and head for the kitchen. He aimed a smile his direction, and he heard the tips of Foggy’s hair brush his shoulders and neck. Matt assumed an eyeroll accompanied it and that made him smile wider as he sank down to the couch.

“I hope the mess was worth it,” Foggy told him as he dug through the freezer for ice. Again, he sounded like he was asking how Matt’s day at work had been, and Matt wondered, again, if he’d ever get tired of it.

Almost a week had passed since Matt sensed Foggy’s stress.

For the first time since before Wilson was put away, his stomach had stopped churning and the muscles in his face and jaw had relaxed. He also smelled like his old self, a mix of paper and clean laundry. Matt also appreciated that his hair was back to being soft and fluffy.

“It should be. I found the last of them tonight,” Matt replied, tracking Foggy as he walked back, wrapping a bag of frozen vegetables in a towel as he did.

Folders were open on Foggy’s side of the couch and he’d disturbed a blanket and a stack of paper when he’d gotten up. Now, he settled back on top of them and handed the ice pack over to Matt. When Matt pressed it to the side that hurt the worst, Foggy grabbed his opposite hand and wiped a washcloth over his knuckles.

They were clearly fine, but he did it anyway.

“Of course you did.” Foggy’s voice poured through a smile, and Matt felt him relax just a little bit more, heard his heartbeat tick up. He wiped the knuckles on Matt’s other hand with a bit more tenderness. “And the loan is taken care of?”

“Of course it is.”

Foggy hummed. “I guess I have the evidence in front of me. How much did it take?”

“I broke some bones and pulled some muscles,” Matt replied after just a beat of hesitation.

Foggy made some kind of expression, but he didn’t tense or pull away.

In the week since the end of the Fisks, the unthinkable had happened. He and Foggy could talk about Daredevil without Foggy’s blood pressure rising or stress hormones trickling into his veins. He made real jokes not laced with resentment.

And Matt started talking about his nights in a little more detail than before because Foggy never flinched. In fact, he’d asked for it, now that he’d seen Daredevil in action, he said he wanted to know if it was always like that. Just like with his senses.

“That seems restrained.”

It wasn’t like Foggy enjoyed the violence, but he seemed to be better at compartmentalizing that now. Or just more willing.

Matt still didn’t give him a blow-for-blow, but it was the most they’d ever talked about this side of Matt.

“They were pretty open to my arguments,” Matt replied, smiling as the conversation drifted away from the weight of what they were talking about.

“You can be convincing,” Foggy granted. He set the washcloth on the coffee table and shifted closer. Close enough that Matt could easily feel his breath on his face and the way the air parted around Foggy’s body.

Sometimes, Matt still couldn’t believe he got to have this. Foggy so close, and here with him after he’d learned everything. And it was bizarre to think it used to be all he could do to not think about that night Foggy had first cracked open the door to everything in Matt.

Foggy’s fingers brushed over his forehead, pushing his hair to the side and rubbing at some of the dirt Matt could feel caked into his pores. Under that, he could feel Foggy’s pulse and the blood running through his veins. The sound of it was impossible to ignore.

“And I trust you to know what you’re doing.”

With that, Matt was sick of waiting. He pulled Foggy into a kiss and welcomed the crescendo of all those sensations.

Foggy didn’t seem to mind.

Once upon a time, not that long ago, Foggy hadn’t believed he could be happy again. Not really, anyway.

Even though he’d been expecting it, in the back of his mind and for a long time, seeing that empty doorway at the precinct had gutted him completely. Then he was drowning in grief and stress and uncertainty all at the same time, which shoved him into survival mode.

And now that all seemed like a life that had happened to a different person.

The restaurant they were in was overwhelmingly loud and Foggy was shocked Matt was putting up with it. But this was a celebration for toppling another burgeoning giant and coming through it.

It wasn’t the first time, though it was probably the most sober.

Karen was lit up, telling a story about working with Jessica, and Matt was comfortable, warm weight against Foggy’s arm and shoulder. His hair barely brushed against Foggy’s jaw and not a muscle in his body was tense.

Foggy had watched his body language enough by now to see Matt’s attention wasn’t stretching beyond the restaurant. The first time they’d gone out, it was enough to have Matt physically present and relief that it hadn’t been the struggle it had always been before.

Balancing Daredevil had more benefits than first met the eye.

And even though the heat in the restaurant was oppressive, Foggy felt unburdened for the first time in years.

Three times he’d thought he’d lost his best friend for good, and now he had more of Matt than ever before. And he was fully, head-over-heels in love, and Matt teased him about his heartbeat and his oxytocin levels almost all the time.

Matt was holding himself incredibly still though, while in his state of relaxation, and Foggy took a wild guess and slid one hand down to lace their fingers together and give Matt something else to focus on.

And even though his knuckles were raw, and Foggy knew his joints were sore, Matt squeezed his hand and settled again.

Last night, Matt had gone out and checked in with Foggy after. That alone was shocking, but Foggy had also realized that he’d barely worried. Hadn’t obsessed about what kind of trouble Matt was getting himself into.

Instead, Foggy had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up to Matt wrapping a bandage around his shoulder, but otherwise unharmed. He’d fondly called him an idiot and insisted on a rundown of the injuries while he helped.

And Matt had only resisted a little bit, which was less than his protests had ever been.

“So, are you leaving us to set up shop with Jessica Jones?” Matt’s voice was light, his eyebrows lifted high with it too, and none of it seemed related to the glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. The buoyancy came from within.

Karen tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Probably not permanently,” she took a sip of her drink and reconsidered. “At least not right away. But I like the work and Jess is really good at it.”

Matt’s posture and the angle of his shoulders seemed to agree.

They were both so bright nowadays. And it seemed impossible now, but Foggy had adjusted to the clouds that had covered all of them. He hadn’t even realized how they’d obscured both of his friends.

But now it was different.

Foggy could see the shadows pass over them, but neither seemed stuck in them for long. Matt in particular, even though there were a lot of shadows.

In the middle of replying to Karen, Matt squeezed his hand again and shifted to give him a smile like the sun.

It warmed Foggy’s skin and sank into his veins and he decided he really liked this new life.

“Oh a real suit. To what do I owe the honor?”

Matt patted his abdomen and fingered the jacket and shirt he wore. It didn’t do anything to calm the stirring nerves, so he just plowed ahead.

“I wanted to deliver this news in person. Since I’ve already told the other two.”

“Should we sit down?” The tone of Sister Maggie’s voice had changed. It was a little heavier, but with a knowing edge to it. He followed her to a pew.

He paused to listen to the fountain of holy water and the way the wind outside brushed against the stained glass and found gaps in the wood near the top of the church so it threaded through the rafters. And there were so many smells it should have been overwhelming. But instead, Matt found the mixture of old perfume, melting wax, sulfur and hints of incense comforting.

The wood under him creaked as he adjusted on the bench.

“I told him. Every piece. And his family is safe, and the loan and the lawsuit are gone.” Matt was surprised how eager the words were to leave his mouth. “All of it has been put to rest again.”

“And you’re still alive,” she observed. Her tone shifted when she continued. “So, I have to assume he didn’t leave and your confession didn’t kill you.”

Matt set his mouth into a smile he didn’t quite feel and tried to think about what to say.

Maggie interrupted his endeavor thirty seconds into it. “I’m proud of you, Matthew. You did the right thing. And you’re happy?”

His smile turned real and Maggie laughed.

“I am,” he replied. “And I think I’ll be able to hold onto most of it this time. Even if things get bad again.”

“I have my eyebrows raised,” she said. Matt could tell from her voice she was smiling, too.

“And, uh, Foggy knows how I feel too. He feels the same way. And we’re following that where it leads.”

“You can say you’re in a relationship, Matthew. I’m a nun, I don’t live under a rock.” She didn’t remind him she was his mother, but it hung in the background. And Matt knew she was right, but, still, he could barely believe it. That he had everything he wanted right now. That it had all come back together. 

“It’s a little more than that,” Matt said, testing the words to see if they were the right weight for what he meant.

“Oh really?”

“It kind of always has been.” Matt didn’t know how to explain it. He’d left the orphanage one person and his first semester with Foggy a different one. Something clicked when they met and Foggy treated him like a person, and one worth knowing. 

Maggie must have taken pity on him because she put a hand on his shoulder and interrupted the silence. “I’m happy for you, Matthew. Bring him by again sometime, I’d like to properly meet him.”

Words probably existed for the feeling bubbling up in him, but Matt didn’t know them. He could identify the gratitude, though. So he gave thanks.

And if it came out a little watery, Maggie was kind enough not to mention it.

When the black-clad figure came into view, Foggy grinned. He couldn’t contain it anymore.

Matt faltered a little in his landing on the roof, but he landed it for the most part. Already, a frown pinched the corners of his lips and drew one side down. Without seeing them, Foggy knew exactly what his eyes looked like.

“Foggy?”

“Take the mask off,” he replied. “Otherwise, I think you’re dressed perfectly.”

“What?”

“We’re going out, but you should keep the all-black on.” Matt’s frown was still in place, even as he pulled the mask over his head and ruffled his packed-down hair. “Come on, Matty. Trust me a little. You’re going to like this,” Foggy promised.

After another moment of hesitation, Matt gave in and let Foggy take his arm. “Are you going to tell me what’s happening?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Once they hit the street, they started walking and Matt adjusted their position so he was holding onto Foggy’s arm. As always, the pressure and weight was a comfort.

And sure enough, Matt did figure it out. Foggy watched his head tip back, smelling the air as they got closer to the trees and grass. His grip on Foggy’s arm tightened just a little, and a similarly small smile developed on his face.

It was 1:30, so the park was closed, but that couldn’t stop a ninja and a lawyer who knew rules weren’t exactly black and white.

When Foggy looked at him again, something about Matt had transformed. It wasn’t just weight off his shoulders. The change went deeper, touched on some core piece of Matt.

Foggy wondered if it was that he didn’t need to appear typically disabled. Or if it was about how he wasn’t alone to strip off that part of him.

“Go on,” Foggy said, taking his arm back and using it to nudge Matt in the unbruised ribs. “I’ll cover. Though I’m sure you’ll hear witnesses before me.”

“I’ll probably hear a crime, too,” Matt said. But his attention was only half on Foggy. Like a dog, he was practically straining for the open area of the park.

“Luckily you’re wearing black and I know you brought the mask.” Matt threw him a grin, fierce and a little wild. He spared a second to give Foggy a lightning-fast kiss. And then he was off.

Foggy wasn’t prepared for the sight of Matt running, even though he’d seen him fight. He looked like he was flying.

But of course he was. There wasn’t anything left to hold them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it
> 
> [Catch me on tumblr ](https://booksandcoffeeandink.tumblr.com/)


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